


Star Trek: Dark Horizon: Divide Et Impera

by immortalkaos80



Series: Star Trek: Dark Horizon [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: F/M, First in a series., Friendship., Gen, Minor profanity. Sci-Fi Violence, OC cast, Prime Star Trek Universe., Romulans., Some romantic undertones., Star Trek Online Inspired, War.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 98,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalkaos80/pseuds/immortalkaos80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is written wholly with OCs in the Star Trek Online Universe. It is the first installment in a series 'Star Trek: Dark Horizon' that follows this cast through many of the game missions from a story POV as well as original adventures that do not appear in the game. 'Head nods' to various fandoms. Expect cameos from canon characters in future 'episodes'.</p><p>Episode 1: Divide Et Impera</p><p>Fighting a losing battle in two simultaneous wars, Captain Winchester of the USS Devil’s Trap is already stressed to the breaking point.  Now faced with an impossible situation she must make the hardest decision of her career. Start a war with the Romulans or avoid it at all cost…even her life and the lives of her crew?</p><p>**Please read and review**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  


Stardate: 88277.5 (April 12, 2411)

  
Captain Erin Winchester ran a hand through her thick blonde bob and gave a weary sigh. A week of uninterrupted sleep and relaxation on Earth Spacedock while her ship, the USS Devil’s Trap, underwent repairs for damages suffered in their last mission and she still felt like she could have crawled back into bed and stayed there for a month.

  
That didn’t take into account the events at Utopia Planetia on First Contact Day, the very day they’d limped home to lick their wounds. That had rattled her more than she cared to admit and what she knew she really needed was a month of shore leave in some remote quiet location where the only thing that might happen is a bad sun burn.

  
But, time and tide wait for no man. Duty called. Starfleet couldn’t afford to allow its most valuable officers extended shore leave right now. It hadn’t been able to for a long time. Not since the dual threat of war with the Klingons and the sudden reappearance of the Borg in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants for the first time in thirty years.

  
Thankfully, the Klingon War had been slowed down though not ended, thanks in no little part to Captain Winchester’s efforts following the destruction of the Doomsday Machine, a planet-destroying machine wielded by the crazed Admiral B’Vat who was intent on destroying the Federation at any cost. What had come after—a time jump backward to 2270 via the Guardian of Forever to stop an enraged B’Vat once and for all, prevent him from altering the timeline for his own ends by destroying the USS Enterprise and her crew and retrieve the abducted Kuvah'magh, Lieutenant Miral Paris—was still classified.

  
During it, Erin had killed Admiral B’Vat. The Devil’s Trap had saved the USS Enterprise, commanded at that moment by Commander Spock, who had then in return saved the Devil’s Trap when they were besieged by an armada of Klingon Birds of Prey while trying to escape back to their own time through a rift created by the Guardian of Forever.

  
But the new threats of the Undine had been added to the Klingon one and a burgeoning conflict with the Romulans loomed. Throw in the occasional altercations with the Devidians and the now (thanks to the crew of the Devil’s Trap’s efforts) severally weakened Orion Syndicate and any Starfleet officer was lucky to get a day of relaxation much less a week.

  
Winchester supposed she should count herself lucky even if the reason for her weeklong soujourn was because the Devil’s Trap had suffered heavy damage during what was supposed to have been a vital but routine mission to assist the Vulcan scientist S’Larin to distribute a mine network to protect the Federation’s Transwarp network from possible subversion by the Romulans.

  
They had succeeded despite attack by a fleet of Romulan Warbirds intent on doing just that and the mines would soon be deployed at every Federation Transwarp conduit in the quadrant. But their success had come at a steep cost. Not only had the Devil’s Trap been badly damaged but she’d lost a dozen of her crewman in the battle including Chief Science and Second Officer, Lieutenant Commander Lysia Rixx, a Bolian and a beloved member of Erin’s crew. All of them were still in mourning over the painful loss of lives aboard the Devil’s Trap. Erin blamed herself.

  
The Devil’s Trap’s recent losses had not been the only ones in the short but storied career of the ship but they had been the most morally devastating. To Erin it was almost the last straw. In the three years since Erin had graduated from the academy and been on active duty she’d seen the deaths of too many of her crew and it was beginning to take its toll. In any other situation she’d have been forced into medical leave and mandated to see a counselor. As it was, Starfleet couldn’t afford her absence. They were at war on multiple fronts. So she dealt. She was seeing the ship’s counselor, Marlin Vajgrt as his overflowing schedule permitted but it hadn’t helped.

  
Erin rubbed her hand over her face and then reached for the cup of coffee sitting on her desk—or more accurately the desk in the quarters she’d been temporarily granted while the Devil’s Trap underwent repairs--to take a swig of the steaming brew. She was not looking forward to this day. Repairs would be complete on the Devil’s Trap by the end of the day and she had a meeting with Admiral Jorel Quinn, Head of Starfleet Command, at 0800 to receive new orders and meet her new Chief Science Officer to replace Rixx, a Vulcan named Lorian.

  
It was stupid but it almost made her angry to have the Admiral assigning her a new Chief Science Officer within days of Rixx’s tragic death. The Devil’s Trap had to have its Chief Science and Second Officer but somehow it seemed like an affront to Rixx’s memory.  
“Computer what’s the time?” she said aloud.

  
“It is 0742 hours,” the computer responded in its pleasantly programmed voice.

  
Erin groaned. She had better get going or she’d be late. She set the coffee cup back down on the desk just as the door chime sounded.  
“Come in,” Erin called without preamble. She already knew who it was.

  
The door swished open and as expected the lopsided grin of her First Officer, Commander Dean Singer greeted her. It was slightly more melancholy than she was used to but that was more than understandable given recent events. He was accompanying her, as protocol demanded, to the meeting. “Ready to go Captain?” he asked.

  
“As I’ll ever be,” Erin said dully and turned to join him.

  
The Commander cleared his throat and gave a pointed look at Erin’s chest. Erin’s brows rose for an instant and she looked down at herself. Her uniform jacket was still open, the red undershirt clearly visible under the black and red of the heavier material of the jacket. Hastily Erin zipped it up.

  
“Heaven forbid I show up ‘out of uniform’,” Erin muttered with a hint of bitterness to her voice.

  
Now it was the Commander’s turn to raise his sandy brown brows. “I see you’re in good spirits this morning.”

  
Erin only cast him a sidelong look as she stepped out of her quarters past him and they began the trek down the corridor to the turbolift that would take them up to the Admiral’s office. He wisely said nothing else about Erin’s lack of good spirits. He knew better after serving as her First Officer for over two years. Instead, he changed the subject. Sort of.

  
“You should have gone with us last night,” he remarked. “Lieutenant Commander Talia was on the bar dancing. It was priceless.”

  
Indeed, seeing the Devil’s Trap’s Andorian Chief of Security Anatalia zh’Idrani, better known as Talia, dancing on a bar whilst drunk must have been quite a sight but Erin hadn’t had the taste for raucous fun last night. Despite her five foot seven frame, she had to crane her head upward to see Singer’s fine features as they walked. At six foot one, Commander Singer was a head taller than she was.

  
“And drank and danced and made merry, right?” Erin said.

  
“It would have done you good,” Singer insisted.

  
Singer was a very handsome man, many women would even have said gorgeous but despite his natural good looks and his maverick personality that made him all but irresistible to other women there had never been anything romantic between them. It wasn’t that there wasn’t the potential for it. They were both just too dedicated to their jobs and too busy with everything thrown at them to pursue any chance of a romance. Not to mention that romantic relationships between senior officers on the same ship had a tendency to create unneeded friction and conflict. So instead of potential lovers, Winchester and Singer, were very close friends.  
“I didn’t feel like drinking and dancing,” Erin said dismissively.

  
“No. Instead, you forwent dancing, drank alone in your quarters and brooded until you passed out,” Singer said as they reached the turbolift.

  
“I did no such…,” Erin began to insist falsely.

  
“I know you, Captain. That’s exactly what you did,” Singer said before she could finish denying it. He led the way into the turbolift and Erin stepped after him.

“Command Deck,” he ordered the turbolift as the doors swished shut behind Erin.

  
Erin began to make a defensive comment about Singer being a hypocrite since he’d been out last night drinking at Spacedock’s Starfleet oriented bar, Club 47 with most of the senior officers but Singer cut her off and gave her a frowning concerned look as the turbolift zoomed them upward.

  
“Rixx wouldn’t have wanted you to mourn her like this,” he said.

  
Erin snorted. “Rixx would have wanted me to throw a party in honor of her memory,” she said. It was true. Rixx, like most of her kind, had been an outgoing, outspoken and fun loving person who used any excuse to celebrate. She’d insisted that embracing the good things in life was vital to a healthy lifestyle. Her outlook on life hadn’t saved her from being killed when a conduit exploded during a hull breech while she was attempting to get their shield emitters back online during the attack by the Romulans.

  
Erin had sent her to get those emitters back online. She’d been the only person with the expertise needed at that critical moment. Without Rixx’s skills the Devil’s Trap wouldn’t have been damaged, she’d have been destroyed. Erin had made the choice she had to, as any Captain must, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d sent Rixx to her death and done it knowing she might not survive.

  
“So why didn’t you?” Singer countered.

  
Erin sighed heavily. He’d been waiting for this. She knew he had. Get her trapped in a turbolift alone and try to convince her to forgive herself. That was his job after all.

  
“Would it bring her back?” Erin said darkly.

  
“No, of course not,” Singer said incredulously.

  
“Then what would be the point?” Erin spat at him. Singer blinked and stepped back a pace in the turbolift.

  
Singer’s face pinched and his green eyes darkened worriedly. His mouth opened and closed as he searched for something to say. Finally he said, “You made the only choice you could. If you hadn’t we would have all died. It’s a choice you’ve had to make before. What makes it different this time?”

  
Singer was right. The command that had resulted in Rixx’s death had only been the latest in a long string of similar commands. And that was exactly what the problem was. It hadn’t been the second or the third time Erin had been forced to give someone a command almost guaranteed to get them killed, it was the tenth or the fifteenth. She’d begun to lose count she’d had to make that decision for someone so many times.

  
“I have,” Erin said. “You’re right. I have. I have told one officer after another to do something I knew would probably get them killed. And I knew I had to do it. And I’d do it again. Because that’s my job. But it seems like all I do anymore is send people to die.”

  
“Erin, we’re at war…” Singer tried to argue. Erin pinned him with a glance.

  
“I am well aware of that Commander,” she said sternly, tired of Singer’s truly concerned attempts to draw her out of her self-induced shell. Singer blinked again, taken aback by her sudden formality. They normally had a very casual relationship between them, their dialogues open and easy. Rarely did either of them use the other’s rank outside of a formal setting.

  
“Captain, the crew is worried about you,” Singer said quietly assuming the same formality she had.

  
“I appreciate the concern. But I’m fine. I’m seeing Counsler Vajgrt regularly and since I know he has not informed you I am not fit for duty I would appreciate if you would stop trying to ‘make me feel better’,” Erin said curtly.

  
Singer gazed at her for a long moment and then nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

  
Erin nodded gratefully in return as the turbolift came to a stop and they started to step out, Erin in the lead. As they did Singer spoke up again, his tone very reserved, almost as if he were afraid of the response he might receive.

  
“What happened to you Erin?” he asked, using her given name again. He wasn’t speaking to her now as her First Officer. He was speaking to her as her friend.

  
“Reality happened,” Erin said as they strode out of the corridor and across the interior courtyard with its burbling fountain toward the Admiral’s office. Singer frowned deeply but had no opportunity to say anything else on the matter, they’d reached their destination. Erin looked away with a brief wince of regret. Singer was only trying to help, to be her friend, her First Officer. He didn’t deserve her caustic temper for his concern. But she didn’t apologize, she only reached out and pressed the door chime. It rang sweetly. The bird like chirrup was dissonant to the current mood.

  
“Enter,” came the muffled but commanding voice of Admiral Quinn directly after the chime sounded. Erin took a deep breath, put her shoulders back and strode through the door with proper decorum she didn’t feel. Commander Singer followed her example, though Erin couldn’t tell if he was faking it the same as she was or not.

  
The Admiral’s desk was set on a raised dais near the back of the room. It faced away from a enormous window that looked out on the starship traffic in orbit around the gentle blues, whites, greens and browns of Earth. The window was bracketed by flags from various Federation worlds, including Earth’s, as well as the flag for The United Federation of Planets and one for Starfleet itself. A large fish tank was embedded in the far left wall and exotic tropical fish swam to and fro without a care in the world. Erin envied those fish.

  
Admiral Quinn was seated behind his desk, his gray haired, spotted head moving subtly side to side as he read over a stack of Padds on his desk. To the left of him and to Erin’s right stood a male Vulcan with chiseled features, his pitch black hair cut in the ubiquitous Vulcan style, back rigid as a steel rod, feet exactly shoulder width apart, chin precisely level, hands clasped primly at the small of his back and still as a statue. Erin assumed he must be Commander Lorian. She might have dismissed him as a real statue he was so still but for the pair of nearly unblinking vibrant blue eyes that peered from the Vulcan’s refined, chiseled features. She’d never seen blue eyes like that on a Vulcan. The black and blue of his uniform stood in stark contrast to all the red in the room.

  
“Captain Erin Winchester and Commander Dean Singer reporting as ordered,” Erin announced coming dutifully to attention herself. Beside her Singer struck the same pose in perfect synch as if the same puppet strings controlled them both. She supposed in a way they did. Two years serving together on two different starships in conditions hereto unseen in Federation space had made them a finely honed pair. In fact, Erin’s entire senior staff was a finely honed team, often knowing and doing what the rest required of them without so much as a word in what a Betazoid observer had once commented looked almost like a telepathically linked harmony.

  
That team was short a member now. Erin felt a welter of grief, guilt and anger rush through her that she fiercely quelled and it was followed by one of regretful apology. She wasn’t being fair to Singer and as the Vulcan finally deigned to show any signs of life, his eyes flicking to her and Commander Singer before realigning straight ahead again she felt the same for him. He wasn’t to blame for Rixx’s death nor was he to blame that he had been assigned to take Rixx’s place. That blame fell squarely on Erin’s shoulders.

  
Damn it all, she was going to have to be fair. Erin didn’t want to be fair. She wanted to be angry and arrogantly disdainful of her new Chief Science and Second Officer. But she couldn’t be. She wanted to but it wasn’t right. Damn it.

  
Admiral Quinn waved his hand dismissively in their direction without looking up, his eyes rooted firmly to the Padd in his hand with a furrowed brow. “At ease. Please don’t stand on formality on my account. Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable.”

  
“Thank you Admiral,” Erin said and she and Singer came forward, taking seats in the pair of chairs in front of the Admiral’s desk. The Vulcan didn’t move, though his eyes followed them to the chairs. Once they were seated, his eyes returned to their forward position. For an instant, Erin wondered if the Vulcan could stand there all day and never move, the way the old Royal Guards of England once had.

  
It took the Admiral a moment more before he managed to pull his attention away from the Padd he was reading with a troubled expression that he quickly modified into a kind but authoritative visage as he looked up at them. He set the Padd aside and folded his hands on top of his desk. Without his head bent studiously over a Padd it was easy to see that Admiral Quinn’s spots confined themselves to symmetrical lines that ran from his temples down the sides of his neck in a scattering that resembled freckles. A Trill named Quinn. Erin highly suspected that the Admiral had some human ancestry given his name but she had never had the nerve to ask him despite his approachable demeanor.

  
“I trust you’ve both been enjoying your time off?” he asked conversationally. “You have certainly earned it though I do regret it couldn’t be more.”  
Erin had to consciously make an effort not to say that their time off hadn’t been given because they’d needed it, it had been forced upon them by tragedy. Instead, she managed to cordially reply, “Yes sir. It’s nice to be home even if it is only for a few days.” ‘Home’ for Erin was actually Arizona, some thousand kilometers below them, but who was going to argue semantics? But HOME was on the Devil’s Trap’s bridge.

  
The Admiral looked at Singer. “And you?”

  
“Yes sir. I’ve been enjoying Spacedock’s many recreations to the best of my ability,” Singer said. Admiral Quinn looked at him for a long moment and Singer shifted uncomfortable under the Admiral’s steady gaze.

  
“Yes. So I’ve heard. Something about half the senior staff dancing on the bar at Club 47 last night. I understand is was quite the event.”

  
The Vulcan glanced at them again sharply his opinion completely unreadable on his marble like face but Erin would have bet even latinum it was with disapproval. Vulcan’s didn’t brook with such nonsense. Erin’s eyes caught his for an instant and there was a moment of recognition or appraisal, Erin couldn’t say which, before he quickly resumed staring at the office door.

  
Meanwhile, Singer had turned stark white, his eyes wide with terror at being found out by the Head of Starfleet. ‘Drunk’ was bad enough, drunk on real alcohol and not synthehol—whose alcoholic like effects could be easily shrugged off--was worse.“I apologize, sir…” Singer began to say quickly. The Admiral snickered at Singer’s hasty attempt to apologize for his assumed transgressions and the transgressions of the senior staff.

  
“Don’t bother,” the Admiral said. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

  
Singer looked gob smacked. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It won’t happen again, sir,” he blathered. Commander Dean Singer, blathering like a first year cadet. It was enough to pull the faintest of amused grins from the corner of Erin’s mouth. What did you know? She was still capable of something resembling a smile however fleeting.

  
Singer’s discomfort elicited a real chuckle out of the Admiral. “Come now, Commander. Do you really think I would deny the best crew Starfleet has a few hours of recreation even if it was behavior less than becoming an officer?”

  
Singer’s mouth snapped shut and he blinked as if he were trying to figure out what to say to that. Erin frowned. ‘Best crew in Starfleet’ was a bit of an exaggeration. The crew of the Enterprise had been and always would be the best of the best. She was about to say as much but the Admiral had moved on.

  
“I hope you have taken the time to rest as well,” he said. “I know this has been a hard time for you and your crew. Lieutenant Commander Rixx will be sadly missed. Again I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

  
Erin frowned again. “Losses, Admiral. Rixx was among a dozen of my crew that were killed.” It was a bold thing to say to the Head of Starfleet but Erin had said it before she could stop herself. Erin’s temper was frayed as it was and the Admiral’s lack of acknowledgement for the other eleven members of her crew that would never take another breath had rubbed her the wrong way.

  
“Of course,” the Admiral said demurely. “I did not mean to suggest that each and every life lost was not equally valuable and tragic.” He paused a moment and considered Erin shrewdly, leaning back in his chair and laying his hands on the armrests his fingers curling over the ends., “You gave the order that resulted in the Lieutenant Commander’s death as I recall from your report. Correct?”

  
Erin’ swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, sir.”

  
“And now you feel guilty,” the Admiral observed. The Vulcan glanced over again, this time his eyes staying on them instead of returning to center. Singer chose to say nothing and not throw her an ‘I told you so’ look.

  
Erin cast her eyes down for an instant. “Should I feel some other way Admiral?”

  
“Your guilt is understandable Captain Winchester. But you had no other choice. I know the burden of command can be a heavy one. But you are one of our best and brightest. You have time and again proven yourself and your ability. You have one of the best tactical and strategic minds I have seen in years. You continually surprise me with how innovative you and your crew are and by surviving circumstances that should have killed you and your crew. You do yourself little credit by letting your guilt weigh you down. The guilt will pass, Captain. In time,” the Admiral said sagely.

  
Erin’s frown deepened. That always bothered her. Admiral Quinn never failed to remark how surprised he was that her and her crew survived the plethora of dangerous if not deadly situations they got into…or were sent into. Why was he so surprised? Had he expected them not to survive?

  
“Rixx was not the first of my crew I sent to their deaths. In the time I have served with Starfleet I have knowingly sent more than a dozen officers to their deaths. Because ‘need said so’. I have lost three times that due to casualties in battle. I remember every one, Admiral. And I still feel guilty for all of them. It doesn’t pass. You learn to live with it,” Erin disagreed.

  
The Admiral frowned deeply as well, his bearded face contorting and wrinkling with it. He leaned forward on his desk with his elbows. “I am going to tell you the same thing I told you the day you walked into my office after the Vega Colony incident. I'm losing more trained officers and ships than I can spare. Ships full at a time. Ships we can build, but leaders with courage and honor ... those are harder to find. We are at war Captain. You have lost dozens not hundreds in the course of three years. I can’t say that of a single other ship in this fleet except the Enterprise. I know every loss is difficult and I know you must feel like you’re fighting a losing battle. But you and your crew are the best thing that has happened to Starfleet since James T. Kirk and Spock stepped onto the bridge of the USS Enterprise a hundred and fifty years ago.”

  
Erin sighed. “I appreciate the compliments Admiral but I’m afraid we will have to disagree. I do what I have to do but I’m no Kirk. A dozen or a thousand, every life lost under my command, however necessary, is not acceptable.”

  
The Admiral frowned again as if he didn’t like what she had said but he held his peace. “As you will,” he said with a brief nod. Erin couldn’t phantom why he would dislike it but that’s how she felt and no amount of ego-stroking compliments would change it.

  
“Permission to speak freely,” the Vulcan suddenly said. It came so abruptly and so unexpectedly that Erin’s head snapped around to look at him. She’d nearly forgotten he was there he was so quiet. He was still standing at attention with perfect ease.

  
Admiral Quinn looked sideways at him. He waved him on. “Granted.”

  
The Vulcan moved, walking over to them with a long graceful stride, no action wasted. He looked at Erin. “In preparation for my tour of duty aboard the Devil’s Trap I have, of course, reviewed all available information, including previous mission reports. The choice you made in ordering Lieutenant Commander Rixx to repair the shield emitters was the only logical option. Your obvious guilt however is not. You are allowing your emotions to control you.”

  
Erin scoffed and leveled a scathing look of disdain for ‘logic’ at him. “I’m sorry if my propensity for emotion offends your delicate Vulcan sensibilities. I’m human. If we have any humanity at all in us when we send someone to die, no matter how logical it was, we feel guilty.”

  
“You misunderstand Captain. Your guilt is not illogical because you are experiencing it for making the only decision available to you. Humans are prone to such things. It is illogical because there is no guilt,” the Vulcan said blandly.

  
“I’m sorry?” Erin said looking at the man askance and confused. Singer was looking as perplexed as she was.

  
“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Had you made any other choice all aboard would have been lost would they not?” the Vulcan queried his tone one of someone explaining a complex idea in the smallest terms possible to an imbecile in an attempt to make them understand.

  
Erin’s jaw tightened. “Yes. That doesn’t make me feel any better about…”

  
“I am not finished.”

  
Erin glared at him again but he seemed unfazed. She motioned for him to continue.

  
“Thank you, Captain,” he said and promptly went on. “May I ask what Lieutenant Commander Rixx’s reaction was to your order?”

  
“She followed it,” Erin said tightly, her temper flaring but the Admiral had given him permission to speak and the Admiral out ranked her. She couldn’t tell the Vulcan to shut up.

  
“And at any time did she give any indication that she disagreed with your order?”

  
“No,” Erin said shortly.

  
“She went willingly then?” the Vulcan pressed.

  
“Yes. She went willing to her death, fully aware that I was ordering her almost certainly to get herself killed so the rest of us didn’t get vaporized. Happy?” Erin snapped at the Vulcan, thoroughly tired of him already. He raised one brow at her outburst but otherwise seemed undeterred.

  
“And did you not consider every possibility, logical or illogical, before you gave her the command?”

  
“Of course I did!” Erin spat becoming slowly furious.

  
“Guilt is the state of being culpable for some action, most often of an immoral or criminal nature. Your command and Lieutenant Commander Rixx’s willing and unquestioning compliance with that command was not only morally correct but supremely logical. Where then is the guilt?”

  
Erin opened her mouth to make some acidic comeback and couldn’t find one. Put that way there was no guilt. It still didn’t make her feel better and the Vulcan’s logic had to be the coldest reasoning of guiltlessly sending someone to die that Erin had ever heard.

  
Somehow that just served to make her angrier at him. In fact it made her, illogically, feel like he was trying to steal her guilt from her. She needed it damn it! That made her question why she needed to feel guilty and it made her even angrier.

  
“Of all the cold blooded, insensitive ways to justify the senseless loss of a life…” she said very evenly and very controlled, lest she start screaming in fury at the heartless pointy-eared bastard. “You’re basing your definition of guilt on semantics…a technicality of language!”

  
The Vulcan arched one slanted brow at her again. “I am a Vulcan, Captain. We embrace technicality. Resulting to insults suggests that you are defensive and therefore find my opinion valid. I would suggest that what you are mistaking for guilt is, in fact, anger.”

  
Erin clenched her jaw, completely oblivious to anyone around her but the arrogant, over bearing Vulcan who thought he could logic away her guilt and Rixx’s death. “Of course I’m angry! And I didn’t ask for your...” she snapped, rising from her chair in one quick burst of blatant fury. The Vulcan looked back at her, unmoved by her outburst, his face maddeningly calm. And suddenly Erin came up short.

  
She thought about it for a moment. The Vulcan was right. She was angry. Very angry. She’d been angry for a long time and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Yes, she was angry about Rixx’s death, about the eleven other tragic deaths aboard the Devil’s Trap on their last mission and the numerous others on missions past but it was more than that. And Erin couldn’t say why she felt that way. It lurked in the back of her mind and sat there like a parasite she couldn’t shake. She felt that if she could just figure out why she was so angry she could finally rid herself of it.

  
“You may have a point,” Erin acceded. The Vulcan canted his head slightly in acknowledgement.

  
“Thank you, Captain,” he said simply, succinctly. He folded his hands behind his back again, apparently finished with what he had to say. Erin sat back down. She wasn’t sure if she liked him or hated him but she couldn’t deny that he was correct, however cold-bloodily he presented it.

  
“I’ll be damned,” muttered Singer, who had sat by and watched in silence, as had the Admiral.

  
“That might be the longest speech I’ve ever heard you make,” The Admiral said to the Vulcan. He chuckled in what must be amusement but there was a flash of what Erin would have said was disapproval for an instant but it was gone so fast she couldn’t be certain she’d seen it.

  
“I apologize for my verbosity Admiral but it seemed necessary to elaborate on my initial statement,” the Vulcan said.

  
“No apology needed,” the Admiral said waving him off dismissively. He looked at Erin and Singer. “May I introduce Commander Lorian. He will be taking Lieutenant Commander Rixx’s place aboard your ship.” He looked again at the Vulcan who politely inclined his head at them in response to his official introduction. “Impressive isn’t he?”

  
“Can I get back to you on that?” Erin said.

  
“He’s something alright,” Singer said.

  
Lorian said nothing, gave no indication that he was offended or not offended. He just stood there. Emotionless and calm. Damn Vulcans. The Admiral chuckled at them but there was that flash of disapproval in his eyes again. “Well then, how about we get down to business?”

  
Erin nodded and the Admiral began shuffling Padds on his desk again. “Repairs on the Devil’s Trap have been complete ahead of schedule. She’s undergoing flight checks as we speak and I have taken the liberty of refilling your lost crew complement. You may get underway as soon as we are done here. I will have any of your things in your temporary quarters collected and sent to the ship so as not to delay you.”

  
Erin blinked and her brows pulled together. Repairs were complete? Why hadn’t Chief Engineer Harvelle notified her? The Engineer was nothing if not fiercely protective of ‘her’ ship. As Captain, Harvelle should have notified her immediately if there had been any change in the expected repair time. Additionally, any crew assignments and transfers were supposed to be reported to Commander Singer promptly.

  
“Underway to where Admiral?” Commander Singer asked at the same time that Erin said. “Why wasn’t I notified?” Even Lorian gave the Admiral a glance over it.

  
The Admiral looked between them. “Because I was not informed until only moments before our meeting,” he said to Erin. That elicited a raised brow out of Lorian. The Admiral looked at Singer. “In answer to your question Commander, I am sending you on an aid mission to Acamar with a shipment of supplies for the cities there. They have suffered severe damage after some unexpected seismic activity. The required supplies for rebuilding are being loaded as we speak.”  
“Acamar? You’re sending us on a supply run?” Singer said incredulously. He looked at Erin and she looked back at him just as perplexed. Lorian was looking at the Admiral with a mildly confused air himself though he said nothing.

  
“Forgive me Admiral but pardoning my terminology, the Devil’s Trap is a warship. We have one cargo bay. Even if it was packed to wall to wall and floor to ceiling we can’t possibly carry enough materials to rebuild one city much less multiple ones. Surely, another ship would be more appropriate? And certainly one that’s closer. Acamar is sixty light years away. Even at maximum warp it will still take us three days to get there,” Erin protested.

  
The Admiral stopped perusing the padds on his desk again and looked at her pointedly. “Other ships have been dispatched Captain. You will be the last ship sent.”  
Erin shook her head. “The Devil’s Trap is the fastest ship in the fleet. Even if they left yesterday we’ll still beat them all there.”

  
“Exactly Captain. Given the current threat of conflict with the Romulans, Acamar is a bit too close to Romulan space for my comfort. I do not want what should be a simple aid mission to turn into a massacre. That’s why I’m sending you,” the Admiral said.

  
That made sense Erin supposed. Sort of. Still it didn’t sit right with her. Something whispered in the back of her mind that there was something wrong with the Admiral’s mission parameters.

  
“Understood Admiral,” Erin said. Singer opened his mouth to say something and Erin subtly nudged him with her foot. He snapped his mouth shut. They would discuss this when they were not in the Admiral’s hearing range. Lorian kept his silence but he was still looking at the Admiral very hard.  
“Did you have any other questions?” the admiral asked.

  
“No sir,” Erin said.

  
“Good. Then you are dismissed. I look forward to your report when you have completed your mission,” the Admiral said as she and Singer rose to their feet. Lorian came around to join them and as a group they moved for the door.

  
“And Captain. You might look on this mission as an extension of your respite from battle. I am sure things will go smoothly. Sending you ahead of the other ships is only a precaution. In times like these we cannot afford to be reckless, even a little,” the Admiral called after them.

  
“Of course, Admiral,” Erin said. He nodded and the three officers exited the room into the corridor.

 

***

 

The three most senior officers of the Devil’s Trap said nothing to each other as they wove their way through busy personnel for the turbolift. For Captain Winchester and Commander Singer it was an unspoken agreement that what needed to be said between them was best said where unknown ears could not hear them. Erin didn’t know if that was also Commander Lorian’s reason for silence as well or if it was only that he had nothing to say.

  
They stepped into the turbolift. “Docking Control,” Erin barked at the computer as the doors swished shut. As the turbolift began to move Erin spoke. Here they were at liberty to speak without someone eavesdropping on them.

  
“Is it just me or does all this sound just tad odd to anybody else?”

  
“It’s not just you,” Singer said beside her. Erin glanced at him unhappily. She had hoped it was just her paranoia talking.

  
“It is curious, Captain,” Lorian agreed. Now that they were so close together it became apparent that Lorian was short for a Vulcan. He couldn’t have been more than five foot ten.

  
Singer and Erin looked at him expectantly. “You want to elaborate on what’s so curious or should we guess?” Singer said.

  
“Admiral Quinn stated that he had been notified moments before your arrival that repairs had been completed on the Devil’s Trap. However, I had been in the Admiral’s presence for at least half an hour before then. At no time did he receive a communication regarding the Devil’s Trap. Several officers did deliver various Padds and reports to the Admiral during that time but it would seem most inefficient to send confirmation of repair completion by such mundane means when a simple notification via the communications system would have been sufficient,” Lorian explained. “Additionally, while I can confirm the seismic activity on Acamar, I cannot confirm that it resulted in any damage to the civilzations established there.”

  
“Are you saying we’re being sent on a snipe hunt?” Erin asked alarmed by the Vulcan’s revelations.

  
“I am not familiar with that term, Captain.”

  
“Are you saying that this mission is a load of crap?” Singer rephrased. Lorian arched a brow at him for it.

  
“A most creative euphemism Commander,” the Vulcan said. “However, I am not. I am simply explaining why I find the situation curious. I do not have sufficient information regarding the seismic activity on Acamar to ascertain if what the Admiral says is true. It is entirely possible that the seismic activity was more substantial than I am aware of and has caused the suggested damage. In which case, the citizens of Acamar most assuredly will require our aid.”

  
“Okay. Say you’re ‘inadequately informed” and it is true. Why send us? I know tensions between the Federation and the Romulans is high but Acamar is well within Federation space. Why would the Admiral be worried about the supply ships being attacked by Romulans? There have been no reports of them attacking across the Neutral Zone,” Erin said as she felt the turbolift stop rising and instead go sideways. They would be at Docking Control soon.

  
“Perhaps the Admiral is aware of some circumstance that gives him reason to suspect that Romulans might assault the supply ships,” Lorian observed.

  
Singer’s expression was tight and thoughtful. “One that he wouldn’t tell us about? It doesn’t make sense. You don’t think that it’s a ruse? A cover for something else? Franklin Drake again?” Singer suggested.

  
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Erin noted. On several occasions Erin and her crew had been ordered to conduct, co-opted for, or outright used without their prior knowledge for missions overseen by Section 31, the officially non-existent clandestine division of Starfleet that claimed to operate in the interest of the Federation’s security. Erin hated them. “But if it is, it’s a thinly veiled one. It’s not Drake’s style. I hate to say it but the bastard’s craftier than that.”  
“Franklin Drake?” Lorian asked. “I am not familiar with that name.”

  
“That’s because officially, he doesn’t exist,” Singer said. Lorian blinked in confusion.

  
“Section 31,” Erin said in explanation.

  
“Fascinating,” Lorian said one brow arching high.

  
“Add to that all the ego-stroking compliments the Admiral was lobbing at us,” Erin mused. “You ever notice he’s always terribly surprised when we don’t die?”  
“Despite the Admiral’s propensity for possible exaggeration, his praise was nevertheless well deserved,” Lorian said. “In reviewing the Devil’s Trap’s mission logs it becomes quickly apparent that you and your crew are more than capable on the field of battle. More over your ingenuity and success rate are impressive. For example, your actions during the incident at Vega Colony that secured your position as acting Captain of the USS Impala before you were assigned to the Devil’s Trap were in a word, extraordinary.”

  
“I don’t need you to tell me what my actions at Vega Colony were Commander. I was there. And don’t give me compliments. A Vulcan giving me false compliments is just disturbing.”

  
Lorian raised his brow again and Erin had the ludicrous desire to snatch the damn thing off with her bare hands. “It was not a compliment Captain, nor was it false.”  
Erin furrowed her brow in return and looked at the Vulcan hard. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Instead she said, “Since you were so kind as to impart some Vulcan wisdom to me back in the Admiral’s office allow me to return the favor. All the Admiral’s pretty words? Those are what we commonly call a grease job. They mean nothing. It’s insincere flattery meant to placate the one they are said to, usually in an attempt to blind them to what is really going on, because you want something from them or because you’re about to do something terrible to them.”

  
“Otherwise known as ass-kissing,” Singer added.

  
“The Devil’s Trap’s service record may look good on paper but fully half of the missions this crew has been on have been classified under so many levels of security clearance you’d need a jackhammer to get to them. That is if they haven’t been completely unrecorded and denied altogether. In addition to Section 31 meddling constantly, we’ve been involved in temporal incursions so many times we’re practically on a first name basis with the guys in the Temporal Investigations Division.”

  
Lorian blinked in the closest approximation a Vulcan ever had of true shock. “I was not aware of that Captain.”

  
“And for that I’m sorry,” Erin said sincerely to him.

  
“No apology is necessary Captain. While it would have been good to have this information before making my decision to submit for transfer to the Devil’s Trap, I see no reason to regret that choice. Your official mission logs still stand. Even though I did not know then what I know now those logs speak for themselves,” Lorian said. “Thank you for your advice, Captain. It will be duly noted.”

  
Erin stood there and stared at the Vulcan for several seconds in stark shock. Singer didn’t look surprised in the least. “Wait… you asked to be posted on the Devil’s Trap?”

  
There went that eyebrow again. “It would seem that you have not reviewed my transfer orders, Captain. It is clearly denoted in my official record.”  
Erin looked at Singer for confirmation. He nodded, a faintly amused grin on his lips at his Captain’s not having read the transfer orders like she should have.

  
“From which ship?” Erin asked Lorian.

  
“The USS Bradbury, Captain.”

  
“He took a demotion to do it too,” Singer put in. “He was First Officer.”

  
“That is correct, Commander.”

  
Erin looked between them askance. All she could say was, “Why?”

  
“While it never ceases to amaze me how often humans obtain that which they do not want…the Federation is at war on two fronts with a third possibly looming, Captain. The Devil’s Trap has proven itself to be the best tactical ship and crew in Starfleet with a success rate rivaled only by the Enterprise. Given current circumstances, it seemed logical that serving on the Devil’s Trap would be the best and most logical use of my abilities,” Lorian said as if she’d just asked him why he’d chosen to wear a particular shirt that day.

  
Erin shook her head mystified at him. “You just admitted you have read all the official mission logs from the Devil’s Trap, we’ve just discussed how our current mission may be a line of crap and yet it still seems logical to you to request to serve on her, even taking a demotion to do it?”

  
“Yes, Captain.”

  
“You haven’t forgotten that the officer you are replacing was killed in action little more than a week ago and that she was far from the first?”

  
“No, Captain.”

  
“I think your logic is flawed,” Erin said.

  
“You are entitled to your opinion, Captain,” Lorian responded.

  
“But then again maybe your logic is being influenced by the fact that you aren’t entirely Vulcan. Not with eyes that blue.”

  
“Astutely observed, Captain. I am half-human. A fact you would have already been aware of had you reviewed my records,” Lorian said as the turbolift came to a stop and the doors opened on the Docking Control level.

  
“Are you chastising me Mr. Lorian?” Erin asked. It certainly sounded like he was. Had she managed to hit a nerve noting his human ancestry?

  
“I do not believe that is considered appropriate conduct for my position, Captain,” Lorian said as the group stepped out and made their way toward the transporter room that would beam them aboard the Devil’s Trap in the docking bay proper. Erin noted that the Vulcan hadn’t denied the chastising, he’d only admitted it wasn’t considered appropriate behavior.

  
Singer walked along with them quietly not uttering a word. He didn’t have to, his entirely too amused expression did it for him.

  
“Stop looking so smug Commander,” Erin snorted.

  
“Yes, Captain,” Singer said. He didn’t stop grinning. Erin could only shake her head at him and change the subject.

  
“At any rate, I have a bad feeling about this mission.”

  
“So do I,” Singer admitted.

  
“All systems on red alert?” Erin asked him.

  
“Yes sir,” Singer said.

  
“That means you too Mr. Lorian.”

  
“A prudent decision, Captain,” the Vulcan responded, proving not all euphemisms were lost on him after all.

  
They walked then in amiable silence for a bit. As they neared the transporter room Erin said. “So which parent was it?”

  
Lorian looked sideways at her looking slightly put upon. She’d definitely hit a nerve. “If you are referring to which of my parents is human, the answer is my father.”  
Erin made a noise of acknowledging interest before adding out of nowhere. “They’re very striking.”

  
“My parents?” Lorian asked.

  
“Your eyes. They’re a very pretty shade of blue.”

  
Lorian raised one brow higher than Erin had yet seen him capable of and blinked. “Thank you, Captain.” They walked past Singer, who had stopped to stare at them both, into the transporter room.

  
“Hurry up Singer. We don’t have all day!” Erin called back to him. Singer quickly hastened to catch up to them.

 

***

 

Inside the transporter room, Erin turned to the transporter operator on duty, a willowy red haired fellow. “Captain Winchester, Commander Singer and Commander Lorian to beam to the Devil’s Trap.”

  
“Yes sir,” the operator said. He began keying in the proper coordinates promptly on the standard LCARS station in front of him and Erin started to step toward the transporter pad but was caught by the view through the transporter room’s interior window. The window was longer than it was tall and faced into the interior docking bay giving a spectacular view of the ships docked inside. The Devil’s Trap was moored close by, very clearly visible.

  
Erin moved to the window to savor a look at her ship from the outside. A view she rarely got. Shaped like an arrow head with a shortened shaft the Devil’s Trap’s hull was done in tones of gray and charcoal rather than the more traditional white and silver of most Federation ships in an attempt to give her a more fearsome appearance. The ship’s name and registry number—NCC 94940-- were emblazoned across the top and beneath the saucer section in rich black.

  
The only spots of color save for the fluorescent blue and red of the ship’s four visible nacelles and the tiny white dots of light shining from the windows were four small United Federation of Planets seals done in standard sky blue, silver and white just behind the saucer of the ship on either side and again on the body. The ship’s hull was as perfectly intact as the day she’d been finished in the Utopia Planetia shipyards. No longer were there ghastly gashes to show where the hull breeches had occurred and Rixx had lost her life.

  
The brief flash of grief it inspired aside, there was nothing quite so beautiful to Erin as the sight of her own ship. Spanning one hundred and sixty meters wide, four hundred and seven meters long and sixty-four meters high the Devil’s Trap was smaller than half the fleet but none could match her for speed or weapons capability. Nor, save perhaps the Enterprise, Erin would have said, did any ship possess a better crew.

  
Her only lament was that the Devil’s Trap’s entire purpose was to serve as a tactical warship instead of being geared for exploration as most of the fleet was. Erin had not joined Starfleet with the intention of commanding a warship. Aside from the fact that there had been a Winchester in Starfleet since its inception and was something of a family tradition, Erin had joined because she wanted to be an explorer. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To find out what was out there in the far reaches of space that no one had ever seen. Her idol and role model had been the one and only James T. Kirk and she had wanted to follow his example. She was the first Winchester ever to have command of a starship and it did sadden her that it turned out to be a warship.

  
Nevertheless, there was nowhere that said ‘home’ more clearly and with more nostalgia than the bridge of the Devil’s Trap. She was Erin’s ship and Erin couldn’t help herself.

  
“Have you seen her yet Mr. Lorian?” Erin asked.

  
“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan replied coming to join her at the window. Singer came to stand on her other side and together the three of them peered out the window at the Devil’s Trap.

  
“Beautiful isn’t she?” Erin said.

  
“The Devil’s Trap is a fine feat of engineering, Captain,” Lorian said. Erin supposed that was as close to agreement as she was going to get. “I do find the name most intriguing however.”

  
“It’s a warship Mr. Lorian. It’s meant to be intimidating, along with the paint job,” Singer said.

  
“Curious, considering that any civilization capable of warp speed has usually moved beyond belief in religion and the existence of devils in any form has never been substantiated nor are they even logically feasible. I fail to see how naming a ship after something meant to capture creatures of a disproven myth should inspire intimidation,” Lorian observed.

  
Singer scoffed. “Vulcans,” he muttered. He nudged Erin, who had been listening to their exchange but had eyes only for her ship just that moment. “You’re drooling, Captain.”

  
“She’s drool worthy,” Erin said.

  
Singer snickered. “That she is.”

  
Lorian looked at them both perplexed, obviously unable to grasp why anyone would drool over a starship with his logical Vulcan mind. Apparently, he’d left the human half at home.

  
“Ready when you are, Captain.” the transporter operator said patiently.

Erin tore herself away from the window and stepped up onto the transporter pad.  
As Lorian and Singer took positions on either side of her, she looked at Lorian and asked, “Have you been aboard yet?”

  
“No, Captain. Admiral Quinn felt that departure would be soon enough. Like yours, my personal affects have been beamed aboard in anticipation of my arrival,” Lorian answered.

  
Erin frowned at that but said nothing since there was an unknown quantity in the room in the form of the transport operator. Singer said it for her.  
“Because that’s not suspicious…at all.”

  
Either unfazed or choosing not to comment on the matter for the same reason Erin hadn’t, Lorian said. “I am, of course, already intimately familiar with the ship’s schematics. I will have no trouble navigating my way around.”

  
Erin nodded for the transporter operator to send them over to the Devil’s Trap and as the familiar blue beam started to turn them all into so many glittering particles, a slighting disconcerting feeling no matter how many times you experienced it, she said with a hint of teasing, “I am certain you won’t Commander.”


	2. Chapter 2

They rematerialized on the transporter pad of Transporter Room 1, Deck 4, Section 3. Instead of the typical drab beige and gray of most starship interiors, styled in rounded blocks and geometric shapes, they were met with sleek silver, blue and charcoal curves and angles.

Behind the transporter operation station, a deceptively simple two-legged silver frame with a convex surface that sported a crystalline black panel featuring an embedded holo-grid in shades of luminescent blue, cyan and white stood a blue-grey and tan skinned Benzite in Operations black and gold. Her breathing apparatus (which allowed her to function in the oxygen-nitrogen based environment she was not able to exist in on her own) was hidden almost completely under her prominent nasal lobe and facial tendrils so that it looked like nothing so much as a slim, silver nose ring. It was a drastic improvement over the breathing apparatus’s predecessor a clunky contraption by modern standards that had fastened to the front of the shirt and then extended on a narrow arm from the chest to end in a crescent shaped top that blew the proper air mix into their nasal passages.

A peculiar thing took place as Captain Erin Winchester stepped down off the transporter pad. She became, at least outwardly, an entirely different person. “Morning Ensign Chugaia.

The Benzite flashed her a smile. “Good morning Captain.”

 “Morning Ensign,” Singer said as he stepped down behind Erin.

“Commander,” the Ensign nodded in response. Singer moved toward the door but Lorian hadn’t stepped foot off the pad yet.

“Commander Lorian reporting for duty Captain Winchester,” he announced himself, as if they had just spent the last half an hour getting acquainted in the most awkward possible way. Erin sighed. The Vulcan was going to insist on proper protocol. She turned around.

“Duly noted Commander Lorian.”

“Permission to come aboard Captain?”

Erin arched one brow and fought not to roll her eyes. “Permission granted.”

“Thank you Captain,” Lorian said and neatly stepped off the transporter pad.

“Welcome aboard the _Devil’s Trap_ Commander Lorian,” Ensign Chugaia said.

“Commander Lorian, transporter operator Ensign Chugaia,” Singer quickly introduced as the Vulcan gave the Ensign a polite nod of recognition.

The formalities over with Erin said to the Ensign with eyes narrowed in feigned suspicion. “You haven’t let those Spacedock toadies running about break my ship have you?” 

“I’d sooner throw them out an airlock, Captain,” Chugaia said.

Erin grinned and clapped the Ensign on the shoulder as she moved toward the door. “That’s what I like to hear.”

It elicited an arched brow out of Lorian but he did not have time to comment on it since Erin reached over and pressed a holographic button on the Ensign’s workstation. Immediately the comm system whistled loudly denoting a ship wide announcement forthcoming.

“This is the Captain speaking. Prepare for departure. Lieutenant Commander Campbell, Lieutenant Commander zh’Idrani and Lieutenant Harvelle report to cargo bay one. All other senior staff and bridge officers report to the bridge.” Erin released the button and looked back at Singer and Lorian. “Commanders you’re with me.” With that Erin strode briskly out the door with Singer and Lorian following quickly on her heels.

“This is a most irregular method for preparing to depart spacedock, Captain,” Lorian noted as Erin led them purposefully down the streamlined corridor. Within a few strides the white light panels that ran throughout the corridor had turned a bright blue. Indicating that the crew had immediately complied and the ship was under Blue Alert in preparation for departure from Spacedock.

The group wove expertly between members of Erin’s own crew, who were all moving at a quick but efficient pace, and the white and division colored uniforms of Spacedock personnel, who looked slightly startled and bewildered by the sudden flurry of activity. “You do not yet know if all the cargo has been loaded, nor if the entirety of the crew has returned to the ship. Spacedock personnel are still on board.”

Unlike Captain Winchester, Commander Singer and Commander Lorian, who were dressed in dusky black duty uniforms with zip front jackets possessing high black collars and their division colors on their shoulders paired with split front slacks and ankle boots most of the crew wore simple division colored pullovers with black ribbed necks and shoulders along with loose legged pants that tucked into knee high rugged boots. In all cases, rectangular rank pins were placed on the right breast beneath the demarcation of color from the shoulders and everyone wore the ubiquitous comm badge, shaped like the Starfleet insignia and engraved with a symbol denoting the wearer’s division, on the left. They were a direct callback to the insignia worn in the mid-23rd century, though those had been for show and had been only pins, not comm badges.

Erin required only senior officers and Heads of Departments to wear duty uniforms. Everyone else was allowed to wear what amounted to fatigues. It made it easy to identify who was at the top of the ladder from a distance and the uniformity of the fatigues and the duty uniforms let everyone on the crew know which Starfleet officers belonged to the _Devil’s Trap_.

Gone were the days of a standard uniform that everyone wore. Starfleet had relaxed its policies on uniforms along with just about everything else in an attempt to encourage enlistment. It came as no surprise that enlistment numbers had dwindled drastically in the last thirty years with all the fighting and the massive losses the Federation had suffered.  Now officers were allowed to wear a variety of uniforms so long as they still contained division colors and rank pins. One ship might have people attired in ten different styles. Spacedock was no different. While their uniforms were all white and division colored the style varied from one person to another.

Not so on the Devil’s Trap. Though they could wear the fatigues if they chose, everyone had to wear the same style. Those who wore duty uniforms all wore the same style of duty uniform as well. Additionally, Erin demanded that hairstyles be neat and adhered to prior Starfleet regulations. There were no scraggly haired, messy bearded members of her crew that didn’t come by it naturally. She would have something resembling decorum on her ship.

Among the other policies that Starfleet had ‘relaxed’ were the requirements to enlist and the experience deemed necessary to advance. They were desperate for officers. Once it would have taken years if not decades to reach the rank of Captain. Now it didn’t. You were promoted based on how well you performed, the integrity you showed and your aptitude. You earned your rank through trial by fire now.

There were more captains in Starfleet now that had beaten James Kirk’s record for youngest captain of a Starship than Erin could count. She herself was only twenty-eight though she felt much older and she wasn’t the youngest. Being made acting captain regardless of rank took it even further. Erin had been captaining a starship since she’d been an Ensign and given a field promotion to Lieutenant at the age of twenty five.

Thus far, with few exceptions, Erin felt the policy was tantamount to feeding defenseless calves into a meat grinder while they were still alive. Despite all the aptitude and integrity in the universe nothing replaced experience. Erin had learned that the hard way when she’d been promoted so young.

She’d thought like the rest of the green officers and believed she was something special for being promoted at only twenty five. She’d learned very quickly otherwise. No amount of training at Starfleet Academy could really prepare you for what you were going to face. Many officers promoted so young never lived long enough to learn that lesson.

“Exactly Mr. Lorian,” Erin answered the Vulcan as they proceeded toward the turbolift, its doors clearly identifiable from all others by being charcoal instead of silver-gray. “We’ve just been told that we are going into possibly hostile territory on an aid mission to a planet that, to your knowledge, has not experienced damage requiring Federation aid. We are taking on supplies for said aid mission consisting of what I have no idea. Repairs were completed ahead of schedule and I was not notified by my Chief Engineer. Which is unheard of for Lieutenant Commander Harvelle and there are eleven new crewmembers on my ship that were not cleared through my First Officer beforehand and of whom I have no information. I want to know what is happening on my ship. I want to know what’s in those containers. I want to know who those eleven uncleared officers are. And I want these Spacedock personnel, who may represent a security risk, off my ship.  To that end, I want out of Spacedock as quickly as possible in the event that it’s not just my paranoia talking and there really is something fishy about this entire operation.”

The Vulcan looked decidedly disconcerted for an instant by Erin’s excessively cautious demands and her deviation from standard procedures. Then his expression went thoughtful for an instant and slid into one that was, if not accepting, understanding. “While your concerns are based purely on conjecture at this point and could be said to border on being overly mistrustful I cannot deny your logic,” he said as they reached the turbolift and stepped inside.

“Thank you Commander…I think,” Erin said as Singer instructed the turbolift to take them to Deck Eleven. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Erin thought that was the end of the Vulcan’s misgivings but as the turbolift began to move he said, “However, I might point out that your sudden ejection of Spacedock personnel assigned by Admiral Quinn has the potential to be viewed as impolite and offensive.”

Commander Singer was quiet as they rode. He needed no explanation for Erin’s reasoning. They thought too much alike and knew each other too well to need it.

“So be it. Discretion is the better part of valor Commander Lorian and it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. If I turn out to be wrong and someone’s ego gets bruised. I’ll apologize. I’d rather know exactly what we’re dealing with than get halfway to Acamar and be rudely surprised,” Erin said.

“If there’s one axiom we’ve learned to live by on this ship Commander,” Commander Singer said, “it’s to expect the unexpected. You should too.”

The Vulcan and Erin’s First Officer shared a long look with one another and then Lorian nodded. “Duly noted, Commander.”

The turbolift disgorged the trio on Deck 11, Section 6, right outside Cargo Bay 1. They exited the turbolift, turned immediately left—dodging through hustling officers--and entered the cargo bay.

Upon entrance, they were met with a wall of noise on the catwalk that ran the perimeter of the two deck deep expanse. People were shouting orders at one another, conversing about the best way to proceed with those orders and hurrying about their business with a harried air. The cargo bay was organized chaos at best.

The cargo bay was packed solid with cargo containers of every size imaginable clean to the ceiling. What little room there was to move, narrow passages between the containers barely wider than a person, were occupied by _Devil’s Trap_ crew and Spacedock personnel trying to find somewhere for the containers still coming in on the transporter pad on the elevated level at the far right of the cargo bay that also served as the connection between the cargo bay and Shuttle Bay 1.

Below the catwalk, chief among the shouted voices was Lieutenant Commander Talia zh’Idrani’s and her assistant Lieutenant Nilsa’s followed by the less vociferous but no less authoritative sounds of Lieutenant Commander Samuel Campbell. Erin distinctly heard the Klingon Nilsa vehemently call someone a ‘ _pahtak_ ’ and Lieutenant Commander Talia yelling that nothing was to be put anywhere until it was cleared with her. Lieutenant Commander Campbell was busy insistently and with much irritation instructing a group of Spacedock personnel, “Not there. _There_.”

Apparently two of the people she’d required to meet her here were already present and dealing with the controlled disarray around them. Erin proceeded across the catwalk, heading for the stairs that led to the lower level. Lorian and Singer followed. Chief Engineer Mary Harvelle was hurrying down them already, a padd in hand, her booted feet making clanging sounds as she hastened below, the neat red ponytail bound at the nape of her neck swishing in time.

“Chief Harvelle,” Erin called sternly. The twenty two year old stopped and turned back on the stair, her pretty face lined with vexation and apprehension.

“Yes, sir?” the soft-spoken Engineer replied.

Mary was terribly young to hold the position of Chief Engineer or Lieutenant Commander but it wasn’t her field experience that had gotten her her rank. Like many of Starfleet’s current recruits she’d gotten it because she was incredibly talented. Her brilliance had earned her special training during her time at the Academy with B’Elanna Torres and Geordi La Forge themselves. On the _Devil’s Trap_ her abilities with a hyper-spanner had earned her the nickname ‘Miracle Mary’.

“Would you care to explain how it is that repairs aboard my ship were completed at least half an hour ago and I was not notified?” Erin asked as she came even with the younger woman, she didn’t stop her progress and everyone continued down the stairs conversing as they went.

Mary looked stunned for a moment. “How did you know, Captain? I only found out a few minutes ago. I was about to notify you when you ordered me here.”

“A few minutes ago?” Singer reiterated with surprise. “Admiral Quinn is the one who told us. We thought you already knew.”

“No, Commander,” Mary said her vexation and apprehension transforming into confusion.

“Who told you?” Erin asked as they clattered their way to the cargo bay floor.

Mary looked down at the padd she was holding. “Lieutenant Russell Allen.”

“Spacedock personnel?” Singer asked.

“No. He’s one of the new officers assigned to the _Devil’s Trap_ ,” Mary said looking even more confused that the First Officer of the ship didn’t know who their new officers were.

“I want him put on report. I don’t know how they do things where he comes from but on my ship you don’t wait half an hour to tell the Chief Engineer that repairs are complete,” Erin said with irritation that belied an increasing sense of dread. “Already have a mess on our hands and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Already done, sir,” Mary said as they reached the floor and rounded it, weaving through the people rushing back and forth and diverting to avoid being run over by anti-grav lifts. “But you still haven’t said how _you_ knew.”

“Admiral Quinn,” Lorian said speaking up.

“How’d _he_ know? I haven’t informed anyone yet,” Mary said stopping for a beat to take a good look at the Vulcan for the first time, trying to figure out who he was.

“It would seem probable that the Lieutenant informed him of his own accord,” Lorian replied as he walked past her in order not to be left behind by the others. Mary quickly hastened to catch up.

“Or on Admiral Quinn’s orders,” Erin said irritably.

“Mary, Commander Lorian our new Chief Science and Second Officer. Commander, Lieutenant Commander Mary Harvelle, the ship’s Chief Engineer,” Singer introduced quickly. “Or as we like to call her ‘Miracle Mary’.”

Mary gave the First Officer a beleaguered look for the use of the nickname before she responded to the Vulcan. Dean gave her an impish grin in return.

“Pleasure to meet you Commander Lorian.”

“And you Lieutenant Commander Harvelle,” Lorian said formally.

Mary returned her attention to the Captain who was arrowing straight for Lieutenant Commander Talia who was waving her tricorder over a grav-lift full of containers, whilst Lieutenant Nilsa stood looking intimidating at the lift’s operators. “Captain, what’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Erin muttered. Mary’s brows shot up her forehead with alarm at that. “Give me a status report.”

“All repairs and upgrades are complete, sir. All systems are functioning at or above peak efficiency and we are raring to go. If I have to deal with one more self-satisfied Spacedock engineer I think I might scream,” Mary said. But Erin had stopped dead in her tracks.

“Upgrades?” she asked. “I didn’t authorize any upgrades.”

Mary looked alarmed again. “You didn’t?”

“I didn’t.”

“But,” Mary said obviously so disturbed by the Captain’s revelation she couldn’t find words for a moment. “The security clearance came directly from Starfleet Command. Level 6!”

“Under whose authority?” Singer asked sternly.

“I don’t know, sir. I thought the Captain knew,” Mary said looking stricken. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Why would you think I knew when I never gave authorization for…” Erin began to say angrily.

“Because Captain the orders were sent for Level 6 viewing but the sender is encoded for Level 10,” Mary said utterly appalled.

All of them stood there looking at her with stunned expressions, even Lorian. Anything encrypted Level 10 was for Captain’s eyes only. It was used only for the most important communications and orders and was traditionally reserved for emergencies or situations requiring extreme secrecy. Something serious was going on.

“I knew it,” Erin hissed.

“It would seem Captain, that evidence to support your suspicions is mounting,” Lorian agreed. 

But Commander Singer said it best. “Ah hell.”

“I am so sorry, Captain. I had no idea. If I had…” Mary abashedly.

“It’s okay Mary. You were following procedure.” Erin drew in a long breath through her nose in an attempt to calm herself. “What were these upgrades?”

“Everything,” Mary said aghast. “The warp cores, the impulse engines, the deflector, the shields, and the weapons systems have all been upgraded to Mark twelve.”

“But nothing else?” Lorian asked.

“No sir,” Mary said her voice small and upset.

“Interesting,” Lorian observed.

Erin gave Commander Singer a knowing and displeased look. Singer sighed heavily. Defense and combat capabilities had been upgraded but nothing else had been. They were not being sent on a simple aid mission. The Captain turned back to her Chief Engineer.

“Mary, I want you to send a copy of those orders directly to my Ready Room. Then get back to Engineering. None of the new officers assigned to the ship or Spacedock personnel is to so much as touch a screw without my personal authorization until further notice. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Mary said looking frightened by the situation but determined. She glanced between them as if she were hoping for more of an explanation for a second but then she turned on her heels and sprinted back the way she had come.

“This can’t be good,” Singer muttered as Mary dashed up the stairs to the catwalk.

“When is it ever?” Erin muttered in return as they moved forward again. They were only feet from the others Erin was intent upon speaking with when someone guiding a grav-lift shot in front of them, nearly hitting the Captain in the head with the large contraption in the process. She had to duck beneath it to avoid being flattened and everyone else had to scuttle backward to avoid being hit as well.

“Watch it!” Dean snapped.

“You clumsy _pahtak_!” Lieutenant Nilsa growled at the woman operating the grav-lift, who was in Spacedock white and Operations Gold. The woman made a terrified sound and hastened to get out of their way.

“So sorry Captain!” The woman babbled at Erin and rushed on with Erin looking daggers at her back. Nilsa looked like she would have liked to crush the woman with her bare hands.

“At ease Lieutenant,” Erin suggested. “Thanks for the save but stop hurling insults at people please… no matter how frustrated you are, even if they deserve it.”

“Yes, Captain.” The Klingon snarled in the direction the woman had gone, making her nose crinkle beneath her prominent forehead ridges and snorted harshly but she relaxed. “She is still a _pahtak_ ,” she mutter under her breath. Erin just shook her head and laughed quietly at the irritated Klingon. Nilsa was gruff and brusque but she was a damn good security officer. 

As they cleared the scene of the near collision Lieutenant Commander Samuel Campbell spotted them. “There you are! Finally! What the hell is going on?” He was waving a padd around at them as if it were the source of his upset.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing Sam,” Erin said surprised by the Chief of Operations’ exasperated outburst. He also served as Third Officer and had thus been in charge of the ship before Erin’s group had beamed aboard.

“Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get a hold of you two?” Sam said his chestnut curtain cut hair swaying back and forth agitatedly as he stalked over to them.

“Did you suddenly forget how to use your comm. badge?” Singer asked him mildy.

“No. I tried. All communications with you or the Captain were being intercepted by Spacedock Communications. I was informed you were unavailable until you finished your meeting with Admiral Quinn and returned to the ship,” Sam said.

“Unbelievable,” Erin scoffed.

“Who’s he?” Sam asked, motioning with his chin toward Lorian who, despite the sudden influx of alarming occurrences seemed annoyingly calm about it all. He arched a brow at Sam’s impoliteness.

“I am Commander Lorian. New Chief Science Officer and Second Officer assigned to the _Devil’s Trap_. And you are?”

Sam blinked and looked chagrined. “Lieutenant Commander Samuel Campbell, sir. Chief of Operations and Third Officer. I apologize for my rudeness Commander. I’m a little bit vexed at the moment.”

“Obviously,” Lorian said dryly. “Apology accepted Lieutenant Commander.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said with an extra measure of respect to make up for his error. Then he looked at the Captain. “Now will you please tell me what all this,” he waved at the confines of the cargo bay, “is about?”

“We are being sent on an aid mission to Acamar. There have been earthquakes that have, supposedly, caused severe damage and we are to assist. We’re being sent ahead of the main convoy as a security measure,” Erin said.

Sam looked at her incredulously just as Lieutenant Commander Talia joined them, Nilsa on her heels. The Andorian’s powder blue antennas waved over her snow-white hair with irritated twitches.

“Not with these supplies you aren’t,” she said. She held out a padd toward the Chief of Operations. “That’s the last of it.” Sam took it and looked it over, his outraged expression becoming more acute and solemn by the second.

“Why aren’t we?” Erin queried of her Chief of Security knowing she was going to regret the answer.

“Because we’re not carrying supplies for an aid mission,” the Andorian said. She glanced at Lorian and frowned slightly. Andorians and Vulcans didn’t have the best history between them and both sides held prejudices against the other though the problems between them had long since been ‘resolved’. Some members of both species still held on to slights centuries old, even if the Vulcan insited they didn’t. “Commander Lorian,” she acknowledged with a dip of her head though her tone was thick with prideful arrogance. Andorians were nothing if not a passionately outspoken people.

Lorian dipped his in return. “Lieutenant Commander zh’Idrani,” he acknowledged in return, his tone just as weighted as the Andorians.

“Play nice you two,” Erin said. She didn’t find it at all surprising that Talia already knew who Lorian was on sight. There was a reason she was the Chief of Security. Nor did she find it surprising that the ultra informed Commander Lorian knew who Talia was. He’d certainly known who everyone he’d been introduced to was before the introduction had been made. He was a Vulcan. The introductions were nothing but a formality.

“Then what are we carrying?” Singer asked sharply of Sam over the weighing and measuring going on between Vulcan and Andorian.

“See for yourself,” Sam said and handed the padd over to Erin. “It came in Level 6 just to read it. None of the personnel loading it even knew what they were loading. Can’t tell who sent it but it came from Starfleet Command as…”

“Level 10?” Erin finished for him as she took the padd. Sam blinked at her, startled by her answer.

“Yes.”

“So did all the upgrades they just authorized that I was not aware of beforehand.” She nodded to Lorian and Singer to gather closer so they could all read it at the same time. The two men came to stand and peer over her shoulder at the cargo manifest. The Lieutenant Commanders and Lieutenant Nilsa stood silently by as they did so.

The cargo manifest was filled with a multitude of items. At a capacity of thirty five thousand metric tonnes the _Devil’s Trap_ could carry her fair share if needed though it paled in comparison to the cargo bays on the larger ships. Among the items listed were: 1 tonne of self-sealing stem bolts. 10 metric tonnes of tritanium plating. 20 metric tonnes of neutronium alloy plating. 6 metric tonnes of gravity plating. 2 tonnes of emitters. A half tonne each of isolinear chips and bio-neural gel packs. 6 warp coils. 1 tonne of dualitic converters and 16 covariant oscillators. The list went on and none of it was intended to help a planet stricken by devastating earthquakes. There were no seismic probes, seismic stabilizers, industrial replicators, weather control systems, temporary habitation modules or medical supplies on the list. Everything in the packed cargo bay was starship components.

Erin looked up from the padd, her fingers clenching it tightly. Singer’s expression was grim and Lorian didn’t look terribly happy either.

“And that’s in addition to our normal ship’s stores being restocked,” Talia said off their expressions. “That’s not all either. We have taken on double the number of torpedoes and mines that we usually carry. All of them are Mark twelve.”

The most senior of the _Devil’s Trap_ senior staff all shared a long, troubled look with each other. They had been loaded down with enough supplies to nearly rebuild the _Devil’s Trap_ at need and had the ship—which was armed to the teeth by virtue of what it was—armed to the teeth twice over. They weren’t being sent on an aid mission. They were being sent to do something nasty that Starfleet figured they might take severe damage from. Enough that they were now capable of making just about any repair required in space without the need for a shipyard. And it had all been done with no one’s consent but whoever had ordered it, they’d even had communications between them disrupted to facilitate it. This was bad.

“Still think something something’s not screwy Commander Lorian?” Erin asked her voice tight.

“I would say Captain, that I now believe your paranoia is well founded,” the Vulcan said.

“There’s the understatement of the year,” Singer muttered.

“Sam what’s our status?” Erin asked. She wanted them out of Spacedock right now. The more she found out the less she liked it.  Time to pick up the pace.

“We’re ready to go Captain.”

“Are our things back on board?”

“Yes, sir. I had them sent to your quarters myself,” Sam said.

“Good. Send that cargo manifest to my Ready Room, secure your section, then report to the bridge,” Erin ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied respectfully and left to do so.

“Talia, report.”

“All decks secure Captain. All personnel present and accounted for. Ready when you are,” the Andorian said promptly.

“Including the eleven new crew members we just took on?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any preliminary concerns about them?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. I want their transfer orders and their Starfleet records sent to both my Ready Room and Commander Singer’s office immediately. Secure your section and report to the bridge. And get anyone who is not crew the hell off my ship,” Erin said her voice gruff with irritation, “now.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Talia said a vicious grin and was gone almost before anyone could blink, Nilsa at her side and looking positively gleeful. 

Erin turned to the Commanders. “Dean once we’re under way I want you to evaluate all our new crew members thoroughly. In person. Have Counselor Vagjrt interview them as well and report his findings directly to you. No one else. And have them report to Doctor Novak for complete physicals and do the same.”

“Captain?” Dean said a little surprised with how rigorous a review of the new recruits she was requiring. “You don’t think they’re spies?” he speculated.

“Considering everything that’s going on and how they got here, better safe than sorry,” Erin said. She looked at her new Science Officer. “Commander Lorian you will take over Commander Singer’s duties until he completes his evaluations.”

“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan said obediently without any emotion whatsoever.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before something else happens,” Erin said and turned on her heel striding toward the cargo bay doors. Singer made to follow her but Lorian stood in place for a moment watching her intently but not disapprovingly. In fact he looked completely fascinated.

“Commander?” Singer asked.

“The Captain’s command style is most intriguing,” Lorian said never taking his eyes off her.

“Erin’s a little…unorthodox,” Singer said. The Vulcan didn’t respond to him and Singer added. “You requested this posting. Careful what you wish for.”

“Indeed,” Lorian said with great thoughtfulness. He never had looked at Commander Singer. He’d gazed at the cargo bay doors, even after the Captain had passed through them.

 

***

 

Upon reaching the bridge the three senior officers stepped out of the turbolift at the starboard side. Unlike the cargo bay the bridge was a pleasantly quiet hum of perfectly organized activity. Like the rest of the ship, the bridge was a testament to sleek lines and minimalist style. The command ‘pit’ was raised in the center of the room sitting a step higher than each of the three levels it presided over instead of being inset. The charcoal carpet of the command pit was emblazoned with a huge United Federation of Planets insignia ticked out in silver, blue and black. The pit was set apart by a curving waist high wall of silver tritanium and transparent aluminum that swept forward from behind the ergonomic black padded command and Captain’s chairs.

That wall also contained the bridge tactical officer’s console directly behind the command chairs that was currently being manned by the ship’s secondary tactical officer, Lieutenant Law, a expatriate Romulan subcommander in his late middle years who was considered by his own people to be a criminal of war for his assistance to the Federation during the events on Nimbus III. Afterward Law had defected to the Federation and become a valued member of Erin’s crew. Normally it was Commander Singer who manned the station but protocol required that all senior staff and bridge officers be present for the reception of a new senior officer or departure from Spacedock. In addition all stations (in use or not) must be manned. It wasn’t strictly necessary but it was tradition. What little tradition was left to Starfleet, Erin upheld with a vengeance. It was too important to the morale of the crew and the remembrance of who they were supposed to be. Starfleet officers.

The rest of the wall terminated to allow access to either side of the bridge from the command pit and then resumed to curve in front of the Science and Security stations. At the science station stood secondary science officer Lieutenant Jack Sheppard whose brown hair was shaved very close to his scalp. At the security console was Lieutenant auburn haired Kaitlyn McMillan. A third shift bridge officer, she was standing in for Lieutenant Commander Talia and Lieutenant Nilsa who usually stood as Talia’s secondary.

Below the wall, directly in front of the enormous view screen, through which the busy interior of Spacedock’s docking bay could be seen, were the Ops and Conn stations. At Ops was secondary Ops officer, Lieutenant Logan Atwater standing in for Lieutenant Commander Campbell. At the Conn was the primary flight control officer and a member of the senior staff, the Saurian Lieutenant Pril Isss—usually called only Pril since his last name was hard for most warmblooded tongues to pronounce correctly—his finely scaled red reptilian pate shining faintly in the bridge lights.

Behind all this on the back wall of the bridge were banks of LCARS consoles glowing neon blue against their black panels embedded in silver. At the communications station directly to the left of the turbolift was Lieutenant Commander Janira Triven, a joined trill, her symbiote had been through more than ten hosts in its very long life time. A terrible feminine creature the senior communications officer chose to wear the skirted version of the ship’s duty uniform instead of opting for the infinitely more comfortable slacks.  Proceeding from there were: The environmental control station manned by Ensign Milton Eckroad. The mission ops station manned by the darkly lovely Ensign Lesha Mancha. The engineering station manned by secondary engineering officer Lieutenant Kizan, a bald, green Orion standing in for Chief Engineer Harvelle. And the medical station being seen to by Doctor Castiel ‘Cass’ Novak—ship’s Chief Medical Officer and the last member of the ship’s senior staff--who held the rank of Lieutenant Commander in medical teal and black.

The bridge was illuminated from above by a gigantic light inset in the center of the domed skylight which lets them see above the ship..or would that be a ‘spacelight’? The door leading to Erin’s Ready Room was embedded in the wall just past the medical station and the final bit of importance was affixed to the wall directly to the right of the turbo lift. The _Devil’s Trap’s_ dedication plaque.

Made of solid gold and only a foot in diameter it might be considered the most important thing on the bridge aside from the Captain herself.  Embossed upon it was the Starfleet insignia beneath which appeared the ship’s name, registration number, point of origin and launch date. Under that was a roster of those considered most important to the ship’s construction, most of which were the senior staff of Starfleet Command but the engineers and scientists involved were also listed. One of which was Robert Winchester, Erin’s father. He had served as chief computer systems designer aboard the _Devil’s Trap_ at the Utopia Planetia Shipyards.

A place where he still served. Erin had almost followed in his footsteps. Her mother—a doctor--she had never known well enough to emulate. She had died when Erin had only been seven, killed by the rogue and insane Romulan, Nero, during his rampage on a fleet of Olympic Class Federation hospital vessels sent to aid the Romulans after the Hobus Supernova destroyed Romulus. Including the _USS Galen_ , the ship her mother had served on.

Beneath the roster and most important of all was the ship’s motto. “’ _We are not interested in the possibility of defeat; it does not exist.’-Queen Victoria 1857-1901’_ ” That motto stood to remind each and every member of the _Devil’s Trap’s_ crew what they stood for. Defeat was not an option. Thus far—miraculously--they had lived up to it.

“Captain on the bridge!” barked Lieutenant Law and stood at attention. Everyone else followed suit, instantly standing from their seats and coming to attention facing Erin. It was completely unnecessary and was not a part of the required response to Law’s order.  It was however, a display of deep respect and loyalty.

Erin blinked in surprise and felt a wave of fierce pride and hot embarrassment wash over her at the display. Lorian arched a brow at them and glanced at Erin to see what her reaction was and the brow went higher at her surprised expression. He now knew she hadn’t been expecting the display anymore than he had. He was also looking rather off balance by the sight of a Romulan at the tactical console.

“Fascinating,” the Vulcan muttered.

 Erin looked over at Singer to see if his behavior gave any indication that this was his doing but he had snapped to attention too, fighting a grin that begged to pull itself from his lips. 

Erin smiled for the first time all day and several members of the rest of the bridge crew fought not to do so in return. “As you were.”  The crew resumed their stations seamlessly.

“I was not aware that you had a Romulan tactical officer, Captain,” Lorian said. “I was not aware that there were _any_ Romulans in Starfleet.”

“Now who didn’t do their research,” Erin chided Lorian amusedly. Very few knew about Law’s induction into Starfleet much less his posting aboard Erin’s ship. Law was something of a secret.

“So it would seem,” Lorian admitted seeming not at all amused by his having not known.

“We like to think of ourselves as a little more progressive than most,” Erin said. “Why _not_ a Romulan in Starfleet? There’s a first time for everything.”

“I told you to expect the unexpected,” Singer muttered with a grin in the Vulcan’s direction to which Lorian looked both humbled and beleaguered.

“Indeed you did, Commander.”

“Law,” Erin said and motioned him over. She had to admit the silver haired Romulan looked a bit out of place in Starfleet black and red. Unlike many of his brethren he still possessed the distinctive ‘V’ forehead ridges of his species to go with his pointed ears, adhering to the ways of his youth instead of donning facial tattoos, shaving his head and subjecting himself to scarification that resulted in the smooth foreheads that many of the Romulans had chosen to exhibit in fantastic displays of grief over the loss of their home world and upwards of 6 billion of their race. Romulans were now an endangered species.

The Romulan approached and stopped a respectful distance away, eyeing Lorian warily. “Lieutenant Law, I would like you to meet Commander Lorian. He will be taking over the positions of Chief Science and Second Officer. Commander, Lieutenant Law, secondary tactical officer.”

“Pleased to meet you Commander Lorian,” Law said politely. “I do hope that old prejudices between our races will not be a hindrance between us. I, unlike many of my people, do not hold any particular animosity toward yours for the destruction of our homeworld.”

“On the contrary Lieutenant, I am a firm believer in Ambassador Spock’s desire to reunify our peoples. You will find no prejudice with me. I am only sorry that the Ambassador could not save your world in time. It was and shall forever be a tremendous loss for the galaxy. I grieve with thee,” Lorian said.

“Thank you, Commander. Your consolation is appreciated,” the Romulan said with a dip of his head.  “You also have my sympathy for the loss of the Ambassador. It was a dark day for everyone.”

Lorian raised his right hand, fingers spread in the traditional ‘V’ of a Vulcan salute.  “Peace and long life, Lieutenant.”

The Romulan smiled and returned the gesture flawlessly. “Live long and prosper.”  Then he looked at Erin to see if he was dismissed. Erin nodded and Law returned dutifully to his station. The rest of the crew was still adjusting to having a Romulan on board as part of the crew but Law was taking it in stride. Then again after his exile on Nimbus III anything had to be easier to deal with.

Erin turned her attention to business, stepping away from the turbo lift and descending to the command pit with Lorian and Singer on her heels. All eyes turned to look at her expectantly. She pitched her voice to be heard by all present.

“We’re in a bit of a rush to get out of here so I’ll make this short and sweet. We are being sent to Acamar in the Azure Sector, which has suffered severe seismic damage and is requesting Federation aid. A full complement of ships are responding, however we are being sent ahead to ensure that there are no hostile forces that might hinder relief efforts,” she said delivering the official line though she knew it to be less than truthful. Those were their orders at this moment. Once they got out of Spacedock she’d make her concerns known to the rest of the crew.

She glanced at Lorian. “This is Commander Lorian, new Chief Science and Second Officer.” Lorian gave a brief head nod in response. “You may acquaint yourselves with him further once we are underway. I am sure he is already very well aware of who each of you are.”

“Welcome aboard Commander,” Lieutenant Commander Janira Triven said.

“Thank you Lieutenant Commander Triven,” Lorian responded proving Erin’s assumption.

Erin gave the crew a moment to absorb what she had said and ask anything before she went on. When no one did she said, “Status.”

At that instant in walked Lieutenant Commanders Campbell and Talia with Chief Engineer Harvelle in tow. Wordlessly those manning their stations stepped away and relinquished their positions, filing into the turbo lift to return to their normal stations.

“We are pest free, Captain,” Talia announced with a pleased expression on her blue face as she took her place at the security console. Her anntanae stood jovially upright. Apparently those she and Nilsa had run off the ship had reacted with satisfactory fright for the fierce Andorian.  

“Thank you Lieutenant Commander,” Erin said.

“Anytime.”

“All decks secured and ready Captain,” Sam announced as he took his seat at the Ops station. He keyed over his console with quick fingers. “All systems engaged.”

“Warp drive is online,” Mary announced promptly from behind the pit.

 “Docking control reports ready. We are cleared for departure,” Janira said.

“Gentlemen, stations,” Erin said to Singer and Lorian who promptly complied. Singer sat down in the command chair to the right of the Captain’s chair and Lorian took his place at the science station, replacing Lieutenant Sheppard who hustled for the turbolift.

Erin sat down in the Captain’s chair and took a second to savor the feel of the leather-like upholstery and the cool sleek curve of the arms beneath her hands. It fit to her like a glove, accepting her weight with a welcoming embrace. There was nothing like sitting in _this_ chair. There never had been and there never would be. She reached to tap the control panel on the right arm to open a ship wide channel. Something beeped.

She stopped and looked in the direction it was coming from. So did everyone else on the bridge. It was coming from the communications station where Janira was pushing holo-buttons with a confused expression. “Problem Janira?” Erin asked.

Janira shook her perfectly coiffed head as if she were denying it but her words contradicted her as did the sudden look of dread that flashed over her soft features. “I’m receiving an incoming communication for Starbase 39, Captain. It’s Code 47. Eyes only.”

Erin felt her skin tighten with an instantaneous case of goose bumps. Code 47 communications were used only for emergencies or matters of extreme urgency requiring total secrecy. Only the highest in command of a given station, vessel or facility was allowed to view them. They were always serious trouble. Complete silence enveloped the bridge as everyone became quietly alarmed save Lorian who managed to only look mildly intrigued even if he was concerned beneath that emotionless Vulcan exterior.

“Can’t even get out of the parking lot,” Singer muttered jokingly to break the awkward quiet. No one laughed or confusedly asked what a parking lot was.

“Verify,” Erin said some part of her hoping desperately that for once in her life that the expert communications specialist was wrong.

Janira obeyed, fingers flying. She frowned. “It _is_ a Code 47, Captain. Starfleet emergency frequency.”

Erin shut her eyes and sighed, stilling herself. There could be no question that the Code 47 was directly related to all the strange goings on aboard the ship. It was too much of a coincidence. The only question now remained was why? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. “Transfer it to my Ready Room.” She rose to her feet. “Lieutenant Pril, keep the engine running. I’ll be right back,” she added as if nothing were amiss more for the crew’s sake than her own.

“Yesss, sssir,” the Saurian conn officer hissed in his reptilian way as Erin departed the bridge and disappeared into her ready room with a whoosh of the automatic doors. Singer and Lorian exchanged a knowing look. Now what?

 

***

Inside her ready room, Erin strode with trepidation to the minimalistic silver framed desk that was ensconced to the right of the doors. She barely noticed the cushy but stylish wall length couch that sat on the dais on the left, separated from the rest of the room by a sleek sliver tritanium and transparent aluminum half wall. She had no eyes for the trophies, sculptures and greenery scattered artfully about the room. She took no comfort from the gentle bubbling of the fish aquarium inset in the wall filled with species of aquatic life from every planet imaginable. She could only see her desk and the slim panel embedded in it that served as a computer view screen. It already bore the Starfleet Insignia, a light on the panel flashing blue to denote the communication waiting to be answered.

Erin slid into her curved desk chair and tapped the panel. Silently it rose up out of the desk and stopped at a slight angle. Erin took a deep breath and touched the holo-button on screen that would open the channel. The computer’s pleasant feminine voice filled the room.

“This is an emergency communiqué. It is not to be discussed with fellow officers unless deemed absolutely necessary. There will be no computer record of said transmission.”

“Understood,” Erin said to the computer.

“Proceed with voice-print identification,” the computer demanded.

“Winchester, Erin Morgan. Captain, USS _Devil’s Trap_.”

The computer made a whirring sound as it worked to verify her voice print and then said. “Voice print verified.” The Starfleet insignia disappeared and was replaced with Admiral T’Nae’s visage, sitting at her desk on Starbase 39. The dark skinned Vulcan looked grimmer than usual.

The Admiral, commander of Starbase 39 and in charge of the Romulan front, was for all intents and purposes Erin’s direct superior. She and her crew had been under her command on the Romulan front for months by Admiral Quinn’s authorization.

“Greetings, Captain Winchester,” the woman said her voice as flat and emotionless as it ever was. Erin wouldn’t be able to garner anything about the situation for the Vulcan’s tone. Admiral T’Nae was an inscrutable woman.

“Hello Admiral T’Nae. I wish I could say that it’s good to speak with you again but seeing as I’m sure you’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear…”

“As do I Captain,” the stern Admiral said. “I shall get straight to the point. I require your assistance. Or more accurately I am contacting you to request your assistance for Admiral Zelle.”

“Admiral Zelle?” Erin said blinking and repressing a scoff. ‘Requesting’…yeah right. Admiral Zelle was a Deltan and the first Deltan to ever achieve the rank of Admiral. Erin knew very little about her but what she did know of Deltans in general spoke loudly of the woman’s dedication and skill. Deltans were not known to have militaristic minds. In fact they were an incredibly hedonistic race more interested in the pursuits of art and pleasure. As a result there were very few deltans in Starfleet. None of which suggested the need to use the Starfleet Emergency frequency. “On a Code 47?”

“I believe it is necessary to ensure the needed privacy. Admiral Zelle is our expert on the Romulans, Captain. She has been dealing with them for most of her Starfleet career and I trust her opinion. She needs a ship and a crew for a top-secret mission. You are the most logical choice,” Admiral T’Nae said. “Report to Starbase 39 immediately to rendezvous with her. I am transferring you to her command until this mission is completed.”

“That’s it? You used a Code 47 to tell me to come there and meet with Admiral Zelle?” Erin said incredulously.

“That is correct, Captain,” Admiral T’Nae replied.

“Are you going to tell me what this mission is about?” Erin pressed becoming irritated. You didn’t arbitrarily use Code 47 and scare the pants off the entire bridge crew of your flagship to request a damn meeting even if you were an Admiral.

“No I am not.”

Erin’s jaw tightened and she had to fight the urge to yell at a superior. She let out a rough blast of air through her nose and tried a different tactic. “There never was an aid mission to Acamar was there? This is all a cover.”

“There may well be Captain. You are not a part of it however,” the Admiral neatly side stepped.

“That’s unlikely considering my Chief Science officer confirmed that there has been no substantial seismic activity on Acamar in the last twenty four hours,” Erin snapped annoyed with the Vulcan propensity to evade answering a question directly when they didn’t want to.

Admiral T’Nae arched one slender brow and her eyes seemed to warm a bit. “Astutely observed of them. Commander Lorian, correct?”

“Correct,” Erin said hotly. The Admiral nodded on the viewscreen.

“Commander Lorian’s service record and abilities are exemplary. His transfer request was granted on my recommendation. Do you find the Commander an acceptable replacement?”  the Admiral inquired curiously, as if she hadn’t just ordered Erin to take her crew to Starbase 39 and meet Admiral Zelle without any other explanation than ‘I said so’.

“Somehow that figures. So far, yes, he’s fine,” Erin said testily. “Are you also responsible for the chaos on my ship?”

“To what chaos are you referring, Captain?” the Admiral asked mildly. Erin clenched the edge of the desk in a failing attempt to quell the desire to try to reach through the view screen and throttle the Admiral. Instead, she openly glared at the Admiral who looked back completely unfazed by it. Infuriating Vulcans!

“The supplies, the upgrades, the double complement of weapons all sent under a Level 10 security clearance which were all carried out without my knowledge or consent and of which I have yet to have the chance to discern who sent. Furthermore it was all done with communications between me and my crew deliberately intercepted and blocked until the orders could be completed.”

“I am certain that my name does not appear on any of those orders,” the Admiral said smoothly. It wasn’t an admission and it wasn’t a denial. It was another damned evasion. Erin nearly shot out of her chair.

“With all due respect Admiral, if you want to do a million upgrades on the _Devil’s Trap_ and cram every available space on the ship with extra weapons and spare parts that’s your prerogative but don’t lie to me. I deserve that courtesy at least.”

Erin hated to admit that but it was true. Admiral T’Nae could demand any modifications to the _Devil’s Trap_ that she liked without Erin’s permission. As much as she called it ‘her ship’ in the end it was Starfleet that had the last say.

“Vulcans do not lie, Captain Winchester.”

Erin almost called her a liar outright, instead she said heatedly, “No you just cleverly avoid answering the damn question!”

“You are dangerously close to outright insubordination Captain,” the Admiral warned.

Erin gritted her teeth and made herself suck in a deep breath. She had to calm down. “I apologize. I’m tired and my nerves are shot. My temper is getting the better of me.”

“You are human,” the Admiral said in apparent acceptance of the apology. Unlike with Lorian, who had said a great deal more about the subject, Erin felt like she’d just been deeply insulted. As if being human somehow made her less of a person. Erin straighten her back and squared her shoulders.

“Yes I am Admiral,” Erin said not bothering to hide the arrogant pride in her voice. “But don’t insult my intelligence by assuming I don’t know what’s going on here. That intelligence is why my ship and my crew are the _logical_ choice for the job. As much as I hate admitting it since it’s not why I joined Starfleet, we’re good at what we do. The upgrades, weapons and supplies that you have _not_ had loaded on my ship can only mean one thing. You expect us to take heavy damage and require extra firepower during this top-secret mission of yours. Heavy damage usually means heavy causalities. This crew is still recovering from the loss of a dozen of its members, one of which was a senior officer. They’re in mourning and over worked. I don’t know if they can take much more.”

“Are you refusing an order Captain?”

“Do I have that option?” Erin retorted. The Admiral looked at her sternly.

“No I am not refusing an order, I’m worried. I realize that might be a foreign concept to you.”

“I understand your concerns Captain but you are the only logical choice. You and your crew had a week to recuperate…” the Admiral began to say. Erin interrupted her.

“Many of the crew didn’t get even that Admiral. They were busy overseeing the repairs and upgrades you _didn’t_ order. A week isn’t enough. The only reason we got that was because we required extensive repairs. Per Starfleet protocol, forces assigned to the front line are required to be rotated off that line every ninety days. We’ve been on the lines for six months under extraordinary circumstances. If something isn’t done, morale aboard this ship is going to suffer more than it already has. Whether you like it or not, if morale begins to slip this crew will be useless to you. Now I know the people aboard my ship may just be cannon fodder to you but they’re _my crew_ and I take my Captain’s Oath very seriously. I will not sit idly by while you run them into the ground. This crew has earned more consideration from Starfleet than that. More to the point it would be an illogical waste of resources that neither you or Starfleet can afford.”

The Admiral sat peering back at Erin from the view screen for a long moment her dark eyes unblinking and her hands folded primly on her desk. Finally she said, “Your logic is sound, Captain. After this mission I will see what arrangements can be made to afford your crew a standard shore leave.”

Erin knew she wasn’t going to get more than that out of the Admiral. That she had assented at all that Erin’s argument had validity was a surprise in itself.

“Thank you Admiral.”

“You are welcome Captain.”

“May I ask you another question?”

“You just did. However, you may ask an additional one,” the Admiral replied drily. Who said Vulcan didn’t have a sense of humor?

“Excluding Commander Lorian were you also indirectly responsible for the eleven other crew members assigned to my ship--under incorrect procedures--to replace those we lost?”

Admiral T’Nae’s eyebrows shot up again. “No I was not.”  It was the first straight answer the Vulcan had given her during the entire conversation.

The two women shared a long look. If Admiral T’Nae hadn’t manipulated it…who had? Admiral Quinn? Why? That sense of dread sank in again and made the hair on Erin’s arms stand on end. Something was very wrong here.

“Thank you Admiral.”

The Admiral nodded curtly in response.

“Does Admiral Quinn know about this mission?”

“I cannot tell you that Captain.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what mission Admiral Zelle needs us for?”

“Not at this time.”

Erin began to feel sick. She did not like this.

“Understood Admiral.”

The Admiral raised her hand in a Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life, Captain.”

Erin returned it. “Live long and prosper.” Erin had the terrible feeling that she and her crew would end up doing neither.

The Admiral put her hand back down and her brows twitched for an instant in what might have been a flash of concern. “And Captain? Travel quickly.” Then the view screen went blank and replaced the Admiral’s image with a standard LCARS screen.

Erin sat back in her chair and stared at the screen for a long moment, her face pinched. “Damn it.” She had the worst feeling about this.

 

***

When Erin emerged from her Ready Room the bridge crew were sitting there silently and apprehensively waiting, every face lined with worried curiosity. Erin thanked whatever powers that be for the near perfect sound proofing of Starfleet ship design. If they’d been able to hear her yelling, they wouldn’t still have those expectant expressions. Erin lamented that she couldn’t tell them anything. She hated giving orders that made no sense with no explanation.

“Janira, are we still cleared for departure?” she asked as she retook her seat in the Captain’s chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s try this again,” Erin muttered, keying over the control panel in the arm of the chair. Everyone was still looking at her to tell them something. Erin ignored them in favor of opening a ship wide channel. The beep announcing that the channel was open twittered.

“All decks this is the Captain, prepare for immediate departure.” Erin closed the channel. Instantly the white lights of the bridge turned flashing blue and the familiar trill of a Blue Alert sounded to notify the crew of a change in operating mode from standing by to undocking.  “Helm, thrusters.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Pril said and complied promptly though his large reptilian eyes blinked in bewilderment. There was a sense of great confusion and worry on the bridge that made Erin’s skin prickle.

Singer leaned closer to her and whispered. “What happened in there?”

“I can’t tell you, Dean,” Erin said regretfully. Dean’s expression soured considerably but he sat back in his chair. Lorian listened wordlessly, the only indication he had heard one brow arched high.

 “Mooringsss retracted. External inertial dampener disssengaged. Thhhrustersss fired. Ssseparating from thhhe docking ring,” Pril announced.  The _Devil’s Trap_ began to move, easing away from the docking bay control tower and drifting into a turn. The view screen showed moored ships slipping past, more than were comfortable, exhibiting the blackened lacelike evidence of hull breeches sustained in battle. The ship made a slow 180 and floated inch by inch toward the docking bay doors. “We have cleared thhhe docking ring sssir.”

“Take us out, one quarter impulse,” Erin said.

“Captain, regulations clearly state maneuvering thrusters only…,” Lorian began to say.

“I’m aware of regulations. One quarter impulse,” Erin reiterated. Lorian snapped his mouth shut.

“Yesss, sssir,” Pril said his stiff lips unable to pronounce the ‘th’ and ‘s’ sounds without his kind’s ever present hiss. The impulse engines engaged and the _Devil’s Trap_ picked up speed. “One minute to docking bay doorsss.”

Everyone waited, eyes flicking occasionally from their workstations to Erin. Wondering what the Code 47 had been about and knowing they dare not ask. The docking bay doors began to slide open with patience grating slowness.

“Can’t you even give us a hint?” Singer pressed.

“No. I can’t. But I have a very bad feeling about this,” Erin said. Singer frowned deeply obviously not liking this anymore than she did.

 “30 sssecondsss to docking bay doorsss.”

 “’A bad feeling’?” queried Lorian.

“Gut instinct Commander,” Erin supplied in answer.

“It is impossible for your ‘gut’ to predict the outcome of future events, Captain and instinct is notoriously unreliable,” the Vulcan said .

“It hasn’t failed me yet,” Erin quipped back. Lorian arched a brow again but said nothing in refutation as the _Devil’s Trap_ drifted out of Earth Spacedock and into the inky blackness of space, the stars winking brilliant white at them. Erin took no joy in the sight. Normally she’d have rejoiced at the sight before her. The freedom of a captain and her starship in tens of thousands of light years of open space. But not today. “Do you play Tridimensional chess Commander?”

Perplexed, Lorian said, “I do.”

“Have you ever felt like you were one of the pieces on that chessboard?”

“No, Captain. That would be a highly illogical and useless fantasy,” Lorian said his bright blue eyes looking as if he thought Erin might have taken leave of her senses.

“You’re about to,” Erin said forebodingly. The Vulcan’s eyebrows wobbled in what might have been alarm.

“We have cleared Ssspacedock,” Pril announced. The lights returned to normal and the ship came down from Blue Alert. Around them floated the pristine white and silver of Starfleet’s finest. The _Devil’s Trap_ seemed out of place with its dark exterior among them, the wolf among the sheep. Behind them loomed Earth Spacedock, a monolithic child’s top dotted with illuminated windows harboring the best mind’s Starfleet had to offer.

“Full impulse,” Erin said. The Saurian’s fingers flew and the _Devil’s Trap_ picked up additional speed, the red of the impulse engines flaring like embers in a fire as they distanced themselves from Spacedock enough to allow for warp speed. The space-faring wolf loping toward the galactic forest in search of prey.

“We are clear to depart the system,” Janira piped up from her station, a note of tension in her normal cheery voice.

“Ready for warp on your command,” Pril said.

“Set course for Starbase 39,” Erin said.

“Captain?” Lieutenant Commander Sam Campbell asked with alarm from the Ops station.  Pril looked back at her questioningly. Erin knew what Sam was thinking, what they were all thinking. She had just informed them they were to lead an aid mission to Acamar and now they were suddenly going to Starbase 39 instead. Were they going to leave the fleet of aid ships to defend themselves and the citizens of Acamar to make due the best they could? She wanted to tell them it was all a  cover but her hands were tied. They suspected it already but even the slightest doubt would have them all guilt ridden that they’d left people in need of help wanting.

“You heard me, Sam. Pril, do it,” Erin said from her chair authoritatively. Sam frowned stubbornly but he turned back to his station. Pril looked at Erin a moment longer and then obeyed.

“Yesss, sssir.” His long fingered hands tapped away. “Courssse laid in.”

“There are to be no records or logs mentioning any aspect of this trip, is that understood?” Erin said.

There was a long moment of stunned silence. “Understood,” Singer said. There was a wary flurry of ‘Yes, sirs’ and ‘Understood, Captain’s’, from the rest of the crew.

“Captain,” Lorian said. “Admiral Quinn gave us orders to report to Acamar. Should we not notify the Admiral in our change in destination?”

“No. Nothing goes out without specific orders from me,” Erin said.

“Of course, Captain,” Lorian said his face unreadable. Erin looked to Pril again.

“Maximum warp. Floor it Lieutenant.”

The Saurian followed orders and the sensation of being grasped in a gigantic hand in preparation to be hurtled into the distance overtook the ship. The stars visible through the view screen turned from small orbs into glowing lines and the familiar roar of the warp engines building power filled the air. Then like a rock launched from a slingshot the _Devil’s Trap_ catapulted forward leaving a contrail of sparkling blue behind her as she sped away from Spacedock toward Starbase 39. Erin hoped they weren’t hurtling toward impending disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	3. Chapter 3

Once they were underway, the ship cocooned in the familiar tunnel of streaming points of light, Erin sat back in her seat and sighed. The crew was uncharacteristically quiet, the only sounds the occasionally beep of holo-buttons. No one knew what to say. What could they say? They were blazing through space at warp 9.99 for Starbase 39 without knowing why.

Worse, it would take them three days to reach the edge of the Romulan Neutral Zone where Starbase 39 was located. Even if the _Devil’s Trap_ was the fastest ship in the fleet, they couldn’t maintain such high warp speed for more than 18 hours at a time. They would have to slow down for part of the trip to their cruising speed of warp 7 for an equal amount of time to allow for the warp core to cool before resuming top speed or risk the ship being torn to pieces and the core breeching. The ship’s warp capabilities shaved what would have been a two-week trip for anyone else to a short three days but that was three days that Erin had to suffer uncomfortably inquisitive looks from her crew that she could do nothing about. This had damn sure better be for a good reason.

But, she had other things to worry about at the moment. She glanced over at her new Chief Science Officer. “Mr. Lorian, were you aware that Admiral T’Nae recommended you for this posting?” That bothered her. What with the Admiral’s other machinations aboard her ship but seemingly not with the eleven other new crewmembers, Erin had to wonder why exactly the Admiral had wanted Commander Lorian on the _Devil’s Trap_.

Was the Admiral protecting them without saying so and all the upgrades, extra weapons and supremely qualified new Chief Science Officer were a reflection of that? Or was it something else? Why all the secrecy? And if Admiral T’Nae had no hand in the unorthodox assignment of the other new crewmembers...who had and why? And which one should Erin be more worried about?

Singer perked up and leaned closer to hear the answer, obviously curious why Erin had asked the question out of the blue.

Lorian canted his head, his eyes drifting to the side in contemplation. “No, Captain I was not. It is most curious since I do not believe I have ever made the Admiral’s acquaintance.”

Erin made a ‘hm’ noise in response but said nothing. Now that _was_ curious. Why would the Admiral recommend someone she had never even met no matter how exemplary his record was? Was he some sort of spy? Or was Erin’s imagination running wild and her paranoia taking over? Singer had already checked out the Commander thoroughly when he’d been assigned to the _Devil’s Trap_ even if Erin had failed to take more than a cursory glance at the Vulcan’s record and transfer orders. Dean would have said something if there was anything amiss. So why?

“I shall have to convey my gratitude to her at the first opportunity,” Lorian said.

“I’m sure she’ll be _thrilled_ to hear from you,” Erin quipped. There were several nervous muffled snickers from around the bridge. Singer snorted in an attempt to contain his.

 Lorian’s brows pulled together in confusion. “Was that intended as a joke Captain?”

“A very small one,” Erin admitted. Lorian’s eyebrows wobbled up and down again but he couldn’t seem to find anything to say. That only spurred another round of quiet chortles.

Then Erin spoke up again. “Our destination may have changed but my previous orders still stand. Dean, you know what I want you to do.” Her First Officer nodded and prepared to rise from his chair to get to work. “In addition…,” She looked down from the command pit toward the Ops station where Lieutenant Commander Campbell was busy managing their power distribution needs from his console, “Sam, I want you to do a complete computer systems diagnostic.” Sam whipped around and looked at her incredulously but she didn’t give him time to interject just yet. She looked back over her shoulder at Chief Engineer Harvelle. “Mary I want you to do a diagnostic on the warp core and the impulse engines.” Mary blinked with her jaw dropped. Erin looked toward Talia at the security console. “Talia, you’ll do a weapons systems diagnostic.” The Andorian frowned. She hated tech assignments. Erin looked at Janira. “Janira, I want you to run diagnostics on the deflector array, sensors, the shield emitters and all associated systems.”

“Captain a complete computer systems check will take a week!” Sam protested. At the same time, Mary said, “But I already ran those diagnostics! I verified them myself!”

Talia was about to put her two cents worth in when Erin cut them all off. “I’m not questioning _your_ skills, Mary. Those upgrades were not authorized by me and they have not been tested in space. I want everything checked again. I won’t have us going into whatever it is we’re going into without knowing for certain that we are running at optimum efficiency. And don’t involve our new crew members without my explicit authorization.”

“Alright, I understand your caution Captain but it won’t make it take any less time than…” Sam began to say.

“You have two days. I want this done before we reach Starbase 39. That goes for the rest of you as well,” Erin said running right over Sam’s stubborn protests.

She got a sullen volley of, ‘Yes, sirs.’

Erin turned in her chair to look toward the ship’s doctor, Castiel Novak, better known as simply Cass or Doctor. He had yet to say anything about any of this but he was a notoriously quiet and socially inept man. That did not make him any less stubborn and out spoken when he felt the need to be and Erin was probably about to spur the need.  “Doctor, I want you to administer pheromonal inhibitors to every member of the crew.”

“All of them?” Cass said in disbelief.

“All of them,” Erin confirmed. “Including yourself.”

Deltans were a peculiar species. They looked nominally human, though they were hairless save for their eyelashes and eyebrows and they were exquisitely, painfully beautiful. Not only were they both extremely telepathic--without the need for touch as Vulcans usually did--and empathic, they produced incredibly strong sex pheromones that would drive anyone exposed to them—regardless of gender preference--wild with desire for them. Deltan culture was prefaced almost entirely with sexual behavior as a result. For that reason, Deltans were required to take an oath of celibacy before entering Starfleet and to take regular doses of chemical inhibitors to repress the pheromones they produced in addition to curbing their openly sexual behavior toward non-Deltans. Even then, it wasn’t enough without those around them also taking pheromonal inhibitors and there was _still_ a residual effect. Sexual relations between a Deltan and a non-Deltan was strictly prohibited because to do so would drive the non-Deltan insane.

Erin had no personal experience with Deltans, there were so few in Starfleet that they were far and few between but she didn’t want a ship full of sex crazed officers if Admiral Zelle came on board. It wouldn’t just be an annoyance, it could be disastrous.

“What for?” Cass asked in exasperation, his tone dry and sarcastic.

When someone teased that the terribly serious Doctor was ‘as logical as a Vulcan’ they were only half kidding.  But unlike a Vulcan, Cass lacked their manners. Cass was very logical for a human but he was about as socially skilled as a turnip. Vulcans could be polite to the point of being maddening. Castiel Novak…was not. He said what he meant exactly the way he meant it with no regard for the way someone might take it. It made his bedside manner atrocious but Erin had never met a better Doctor.

Erin looked at him pointedly. He huffed in annoyance at the fact that she couldn’t explain.

“There are four hundred people on this ship,” Cass pointed out matter of fact. It was his way of protesting.

“Then you better get started,” Erin said.

“How do you expect me to convince four hundred people to submit to pheromonal inhibitor injections without a reasonable excuse?”

“I don’t know, Cass. Glare at them the way you do at me when I fail to report for a physical after a combat situation. That should work,” Erin suggested.

Cass’s brows rose and he shook his head slightly, his sonorous voice completely serious. “Alright but I doubt it will be effective. It never does with you.”

Erin chortled at him and then looked back at the rest of her crew her face growing somber again. “I know I’m asking a lot of all of you with no explanation. And I’m sorry for that. But I assure you, all of it is necessary.”

Singer spoke up. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that we understand even if it does make us want to bang our heads against a wall.”  He peered around at the crew with a warning look that dared any of them to disagree.

“You have such a way with words Commander,” Erin said sryily.

 “I for one _don’t_ understand,” Cass said irritably, failing to grasp Dean’s subtle dare and being bluntly honest. “But I’ll do it anyway.”

“Thank you Doctor,” Singer said beleaguered by Cass’s thwarting of his ‘united front’ attempt.  He looked around at the rest of them for further comment. No one did, they all nodded and Sam—who Dean was glaring at hardest since he was also the most outwardly stubborn—assented for the group.

 “You can count on us, Captain.”

Erin smiled bittersweetly and let her gaze go from one officer to another, lingering there for a moment to acknowledge their loyalty and duty as they gazed back steadfast despite the circumstances. She smiled wanly. “Thank you. All of you,” she said sincerely.

With that, before the situation could become awkward, Dean rose from his chair and headed for the turbolift to begin his review of the new crew assigned to the _Devil’s Trap_ and the others began preparations to begin their ship wide diagnostics.

Erin stood from her chair as well. “Mr. Lorian, in addition to your other duties please see to it that quarters are arranged as though for a visiting dignitary. Just in case. You have the bridge.”

“Captain,” the Vulcan said in acknowledgment and moved to take the Captain’s chair as  Erin turned for her Ready Room.

“Allow me to remind all of you that what limited knowledge you do have of our current …assignment,” Erin hesitated to call it a mission, “goes no further than this bridge. Hopefully this diversion will be minimal.” Then she disappeared within the sheltering walls of her Ready Room. Once the door closed behind her she said to the computer. “Computer display the most recent cargo manifest, crew transfer orders and upgrade authorizations transferred to this station. Also display all known information regarding Admiral Zelle.” Then she sat down at her desk and began what was going to be the first of three very long days.

 

***

Everything was black. Eigengrau, the shade you saw on the back of your eyes lids when you shut them. Perfect darkness.

The only sound was of Erin’s breathing, made all the louder by the profound lack of any other noise. She had the distinct sensation of being in a great, echoing chasm with no end and no beginning. Just darkness and silence.

She looked around her blindly, unable to see in the dark. She felt afraid and terribly angry. Why was she so angry all the time? Lorian had been right about that. She was angry. It was a constant dull throb inside her that wouldn’t go away but now she was afraid too. Why was she afraid?

Because somehow she knew she wasn’t alone in the dark. Something else was here with her. She wanted to call out to shout ‘Who’s there? Show yourself!” But the words died unspoken in her throat and she got the impression that if she tried, she would have no voice. It was that surreal quality that came in dreams.

Erin could feel whoever was here with her getting closer. Moving through the darkness unimpeded. It slid from it as if conjured, so close that their faces almost touched and Erin nearly screamed. It was her! She was looking at herself! Erin’s heart started to pound fiercely, adrenaline pumped through her veins and she wanted to bolt but she stood rooted to the spot.

“Beware. Peril awaits you.” The other ‘her’ said and then disappeared as if she had never been there. Erin was alone again in the dark, her heart pounding like a drum and with an almost debilitating sense of foreboding.

Captain Winchester jerked awake in a cold sweat, tangled in her bed sheets, her heart racing. She’d had another nightmare. She had them often now, two or three times a week. About the borg attack on Vega Colony, about the things they’d seen on Installation 18 or about the catastrophes that took the lives of her crew, among other things. Perfectly understandable dreams that reflected real events. But she’d never had one like this before. Or more accurately she’d had it but she’d never done anything but stumble around in the dark in angry terror. She’d never met anyone in it before.

Moreover, she wasn’t supposed to be having nightmares. Doctor Novak had been giving her regular prazosin shots to prevent them with a recommendation to double her counseling sessions with Counsler Vagjrt. Which she had done. The good counselor insisted that her ‘lost in the dark’ nightmares suggested an unconscious need to find herself, that she was metaphorically lost. Erin thought it was crap.

She didn’t feel lost. She was angry. She didn’t know why she was angry but she was not in any sense of the word lost. She knew what she had to do and she did it. She knew who she was and had no need to find some lost part of her psyche as the counselor insisted upon suggesting. The counselor had hinted strongly that she had the early stages of posttraumatic stress and insisted that it could be alleviated and further progression prevented with therapy sessions. So far, Erin heartily disagreed with him. All the talking and psychoanalyzing in the world hadn’t helped.

It wasn’t that she disagreed that she was over stressed or guilt ridden. She readily admitted that. It was that she was stressing as much about what had happened as what would happen. Posttraumatic stress was related to an experienced traumatic event. Not one that had not and might not ever occur.

Thirty years ago she’d have been put on medical leave and sent somewhere to recuperate for a month. But today’s Starfleet had to make concessions that would have made their predecessors’ skin crawl. Just as the upper echelon of Starfleet could not afford not to use the _Devil’s Trap_ at need nor could the _Devil’s Trap_ afford to have its captain put on extended medical leave for something as trivial as a little stress and mild paranoia. Until she proved herself to be significantly emotionally compromised, she would stay in command of the ship. 

Erin tried to shake off the bone deep sense of dread that the dream had instilled in her for several minutes, disentangling herself from her bed sheets and sitting with her forehead propped on her drawn up knees but it did no good. It remained and her heart rate refused to return to normal.

“Computer, lights!” Erin barked and the room flooded with illumination.

The light revealed the personal touches that separated her quarter’s from the impersonal, cold indifference of a standard shipboard room without an occupant. Here in her bedroom it showed the silver-purple of her embroidered bed set. It was a nice contrast to the soft steel gray of the carpet and lighter gray walls. Her bedside table held fanciful curved lamps that mimic a bending flower stem dripping water droplets, the flower-like globes an iridescent purple. There was a bookcase full of books to the left of the bed, real books with bound covers, their pages dogged eared from use, that was ensconced next to a simplistic but plush chair that was perfect for an evening spent curled up with one of those books. There was a shelf next to the door filled with knick-knacks collected from all over the galaxy for no reason other than Erin found them pleasing.  On the walls were space-scapes and art from other worlds along with holo-photos of friends and family.

But none of it was comforting just now. Erin threw off her covers and barked at the computer again. “Winchester to Doctor Novak.”

It took a moment before he answered and when he did his naturally deep voice was rough with sleep. She’d woken him. “Novak here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m still having nightmares,” Erin said. There was another long moment of silence from the doctor.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said.

There was no other reply from him so Erin dragged herself out of bed and threw on a light terry-cloth robe over her pajamas, which were a simple cotton-like tank and shorts set meant to be more comfortable than fashionable before she padded into the living area to wait for him.

Unlike her bedroom, the living area held a certain androgyny to it. It was impossible to tell if a man or a woman resided there. There was a long multi-sectional couch against the wall that faced out to the stars giving a spectacular view of space…when they were traveling at high warp and it was reduced to a stream of glowing lines. Those lines moved slower now than they had before now that they were moving at warp 7 instead of warp 9.99. It had been two days since they had departed Spacedock for Starbase 39. Two very awkward and tense days.

Beyond the couch was a low carved coffee table of simulated oak, a decanter set atop it, which sat between a curving couch on the other side to complete the seating area. To the left of it was a dining table of the same style that could seat four comfortably and closer to the door, crammed in the corner almost as an afterthought was a streamlined desk. The decorations consisted of a couple of vases of orchids, another bookcase filled with books--one could never have enough books--weapons stands with various weaponry mounted on them that were not meant just for show and art pieces that fit the room’s ascetic and Erin’s slightly eccentric tastes. More paintings and holo-photos adorned the walls.

Not wanting to sit since she was too agitated, Erin compromised by propping against the back of the curved couch, half sitting on it while she waited. It didn’t take the doctor long. The door to Erin’s quarters twittered at his arrival.

“Come in,” she called.

The doctor strode in, his medical case slung over his shoulder. “You realize it’s 0400,” he complained as he approached her, already unslinging the medical case so as not to waste a single moment.

“I know. I’m sorry Cass but the prazosine isn’t working,” Erin said as he balanced the case on the back of the couch and removed a medical tricorder and a hand scanner.

“It should be working,” he said as he flicked both instruments on and began passing the scanner through the air next to her, his eyes rooted to the readings it sent to the tricorder in his other hand.

“Well it isn’t.”

 “Your adrenaline, norepinepherine and cortisol levels are significantly elevated and your heart rate is high,” the dark haired man announced matter of factly. He put down the scanner and the tricorder in trade for a hypospray that he started tapping instructions into. 

“I just had a nightmare. Of course they are, Cass,” Erin said. The doctor pressed the hypospray to the side of her neck. It hissed as he pushed the injection button without giving Erin time to ask what he was doing or move. Another of the drawbacks of Cass’s social ineptitude. It never occurred to him that she might want to know what he was dosing her with before he did it.

“What was that?”

“A mild sedative. It should remedy the problem,” Cass said picking the scanner and tricorder again and resuming scanning her without further explanation. He frowned at his readings. “Your blood serum levels of prazosin are adequate. I don’t understand.”

That came as a surprise. Very little about science or medicine escaped the doctor’s understanding. He was incredibly intelligent and though few but the senior crew were aware of it—because of the stigma involved--had under gone genetic resequencing as a child to increase his intelligence further, much as Doctor Julian Bashir had before him. It was illegal and though Doctor Bashir had been given special exception, those who had under gone it were, until recently, forbidden from service in Starfleet. Yet another concession Starfleet had made.

It was no longer forbidden for someone who had been genetically enhanced to join Starfleet though the technology and act of doing so still was. Erin often wondered if the doctor who had done the resquencing on Cass had removed whatever gave humans social grace to give him that enlarged intellect.

“Then increase the dose,” Erin suggested. The sedative was working, her heart rate was beginning to return to normal but she still felt agitated.

“I can’t. You’ve already met the maximum safe dosage.”

“Then figure out something else. I can’t function if I get no sleep because I keep having nightmares,” Erin insisted. Cass looked at her pointedly.

“You will also not be able to function if you continue to insist upon not dreaming. Dreaming is a normal part of the REM cycle, without it you will not get the rest you need.”

“I’m not getting the rest I need having nightmares either,” Erin said.

“Have you been seeing Counselor Vagjrt as directed?” Cass asked.

“Yes. It doesn’t help,” Erin said irritably. Cass’s jaw tightened and he simply looked at her in that unblinking way he had. He didn’t like her answer. “Before you go off on me I’m doing everything the Counselor wants,” Erin said before he could start lecturing her.

He just stood there considering her for a long moment. Finally, he said reluctantly, “We could try a theragen derivative.”

“Then let’s do it,” Erin encouraged.

“May I remind you that theragen was originally developed as a nerve agent by the Klingons?”

“Which is only lethal in concentrated doses…” Erin said as Cass kept on.

“While it may give you the relief you need temporarily, it is not meant to be used in anything but the most extreme circumstances and for very limited periods of time. You can’t take it forever.”

“Noted. Get on with it.”

Cass huffed in displeasure but he keyed in the proper formula and pressed the hypo to her neck again. He wasn’t gentle about it either.

“Ow,” Erin said dryly. He only eyed her as he pushed buttons on the hypospray again. “What’s tha…” she began to ask as he immediately applied the hypospray a third time with no more gentleness than the second.

“The inexplicable pheromonal inhibitor you told me to give everyone.”

Erin rubbed her neck where the hypospray had been and glared at him. “You could have said something first.”

Cass said nothing in return as he packed up his medical case.

“Thank you,” Erin offered weakly to him. He was obviously mad at her or the situation. She wasn’t sure which. He nodded in acknowledgment and started for the door.

“I would appreciate it if we kept this between us,” Erin said as he departed. She didn’t want the crew aware of how troubled their captain really was. Commander Singer had already made it clear they were worried and she didn’t want to exacerbate it. Cass stopped.

“I have no intention of violating patient-doctor confidentiality, Erin,” Cass said seriously. “But if this doesn’t stop soon I will have to make Dean aware of it.”

His use of her first name didn’t bother her. They were friends and Cass had never used anyone’s rank when addressing them to Erin’s knowledge. It was just who Cass was, it wasn’t rudeness. It was just another function of his social awkwardness. Rank and title meant little to him. They were just inconsequential names given to concepts that Cass saw no reason to give names in the first place. He was a doctor, he was not named ‘doctor’ for example.

“Then let’s both hope the theragen does the trick.”

Cass nodded solemnly then his face softened in a rare display of worried concern. “Try to get some sleep.”

“I will,” Erin promised giving him a faint smile.

He left then, shaking his head and muttering, “The prazosin should have worked,” as the door slid shut behind him.

 

***

Erin was struggling to get leverage on her opponent and not be shoved over the edge of a cliff in the process. They were locked together, both of their hands grasping the other’s shoulders. They were both equally matched and unable to gain an advantage over the other.  Both, sweaty, panting and dirty.

Erin had tried to sleep after Cass had left. She’d laid in bed for an hour trying to but despite the sedative that he’d given her, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom the nightmare had instilled in her and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. So finally she’d given up.

She had already decoded the level 10 encryption on the suspicious upgrade orders, cargo manifest and crew transfer orders. All three, regardless of point of origin—Admiral T’Nae or otherwise--had come only from ‘Starfleet Command’.  So not only had Admiral T’Nae not been lying (in a manner of speaking) when she said that her name didn’t appear on any of the orders neither did they know who had authorized the crew transfers against protocol. It was irritating to say the least.

The various diagnostics Erin had ordered run would be completed today as well. Commander Singer was still in the midst of his review of the new crewmembers but was scheduled to finish it today. Thanks to a full complement of EMH’s to lend a hand, Cass had nearly completed the barrage of pheromonal inhibitor shots she’d ordered  in addition to the physicals of the new crew members. They’d already been passed on to Counselor Vajgrt for evaluation. Preparations of the potentially needed visitor’s quarters were almost complete as well under Commander Lorian’s capable administration.

The last few days had been tense and awkward with Erin unable to tell anyone why they were doing what they were doing but her crew was true to their word. They persevered and they never once pressed her for the answers she couldn’t give. It still didn’t make her feel any better about it but she appreciated their support greatly.

In that time, Erin had evaluated and reevaluated every available scrap of information on Admiral Zelle and all it served to do was confirm in much lengthier terms what Admiral T’Nae had already said. The Deltan was Starfleet’s foremost expert on Romulan Intelligence. She’d risen to her rank without great distinction, instead earning it through old fashioned hard work through two decades of service. While Admiral Zelle was not going to be remembered by the public for anything but being the first Deltan to achieve the rank of Admiral, she had earned it fairly and was an invaluable asset to Starfleet Intelligence.

Her record was outstanding for ethics and moral fortitude but Erin had expected nothing less. According to her data, Deltans being both telepathic and empathic and thus able to feel and mentally hear the pain wrought by violence, abhorred it. Murder was unthinkable. Deltans weren’t even prone to being mean to others even if they did think themselves superior because of their advanced sexual natures. Humans were considered terribly sexually immature by Deltan standards.

 So with three hours until she was due on the bridge, nothing left to do before they reached Starbase 39 and far too much on her mind Erin now stood on the red cliffs overlooking Havasu Falls, Arizona--duplicated in every detail inside one of the _Devil’s Trap’s_ holodecks—engaging in a Tsunkatse match. It was a regular habit for her, three times a week if possible. One never knew what one might encounter and a phaser didn’t always work. Besides martial arts was one of the few activities that let Erin think about only the moment. You could not fight and fret. And maybe it would let her vent some of her inexplicable anger.

Considering Cass’s concern over her heightened adrenal levels it was probably the last thing she should be doing but she had to vent some of it or she was going to go mad. She couldn’t stop fretting about the mysterious orders and upgrades. She was worried there might be a spy in her crew and not matter how much of a point Commander Lorian had…she still grieved Lieutenant Commander Rixx and felt responsible for her death. She might not be ‘guilty’ but she was damn sure responsible. She didn’t have to think about those things here, there was only _now_.

Other people took a long walk or listened to soothing music when they wanted to clear their heads. Captain Winchester did this. Plus it was great exercise.

Erin’s feet slid, her opponent attempting to push her over the edge. If they succeeded the match would be over and they would win by default. The wind up here was dry and arid but wisps of the moister air below in the canyon basin produced by the verdant Havasu Falls drifted up from time to time to offer them a brief respite from the desert heat.

They both wore the same clothing. Sleeveless, gold-black, tight fitting body suits that had a slight sheen to them. Over the body suits was a harness of the same material with round sensors that glowed faintly blue in the desert sunlight over the heart just beneath the sternum and over the spine between the shoulder blades. A second set of sensors were strapped to the top of fingerless gloves, and again to their shoes at the top of the toe and back of the heel.

The sensors attached to hands and feet were used to record strikes on the body harness. The idea was to strike your opponent’s sensors while protecting your own. It was much simpler in theory than in action.

Erin didn’t dare to look behind her to see how close to the edge she was. If she did her opponent would use the distraction to hurl her over it. Instead, she surveyed the situation. Erin could not overpower her opponent. She couldn’t run and she couldn’t strike back from her current position. To someone with less skill there appeared to be no way out but down. To Erin there was no such thing as a no win situation, not completely. A Pyrrhic victory certainly but not a complete loss.

She loosened her grip on her opponent’s shoulder with one hand and seized their arm as if she intended to wrench them off her. Her opponent grinned viciously. They thought they had her.

Her opponent shifted their weight in preparation to unbalance Erin and send her off the cliff and Erin ducked under the arm still grasping her shoulder, never releasing her grip on her opponents arm. Her opponent’s arm twisted back and to the side, shifting their point of gravity. Erin struck out and slammed the sole of her foot into the space behind her opponent’s knee. They crumpled with sharp yelp of pain.

Still gripping her opponent’s twisted arm, Erin swiftly knelt, her knee in her opponent’s back and punched the lit spinal sensor affixed to the harness her opponent wore. The light blinked repeatedly to denote a strike and the disembodied voice of the computer declared. “Point.”

 If this had been a real match, unmodified to lack the more brutal aspects of the art, a bioplasmic discharge would have wracked her opponent when Erin’s hand sensor impacted her opponent’s spinal sensor. Tsuntakse was a blood sport to the Nordicans who the crew of _Voyager_ had learned of it from. Instead of simple contact sensors they had used polaron disruptors in the sensors.  But take away knock out matches and fights to the death, modify the rules to allow for a more civilized version and it had taken off in the Alpha and Beta quadrants as a viable martial art and popular spectator sport. More over it had been modified to allow weapons to be used not just hand-to-hand. But today Erin was using only the hand-to-hand portion though she was adept at both.

“Most impressive, Captain,” droned a voice. Erin looked up, panting with exertion, from her position, her knee still in her opponent’s back to keep them pinned. It was Commander Lorian, in his uniform despite the hour and holding a padd.

“Commander,” Erin panted in surprise.

“I am sorry to intrude,” he said sincerely. “But you did wish me to notify you once the diagnostics were completed.”

Erin felt a wash of embarrassment flood over her and instantly released her opponent allowing them to get up. They rose, dusting photonic red dust from their photonic body. “I did, didn’t I,” Erin said feeling flustered.

The Vulcan eyed Erin and her opponent. “Though I would find it very interesting to know what the ship’s counselor would have to say about fighting one’s self.”

Erin looked at her opponent for an instant. A perfect holographic rendition of herself, down to the last nuance. She hadn’t been able to shake the nightmare so she’d thought beating the crap out of it might help. It was embarrassing to be caught by her Chief Science Officer, a Vulcan no less, doing something that was so irrational and silly. You couldn’t beat up a bad dream.

“Ah,” Erin said trying to think up a valid excuse. “It was an exercise in personal benchmarking, Mr. Lorian.” She reached absently for a towel she’d brought with her to the holodeck that was draped on a nearby rock and swabbed her sweaty neck and dusty hands. “Commander Singer usually spars with me but he’s a bit busy at the moment so I thought I’d try something different.”

The Vulcan arched an eyebrow at her. “Interesting,” he observed. He was still eyeing the copy of Erin with a peculiar expression. Erin gave Lorian a beleaguered look and hooked the towel around the back of her neck. She stepped forward a couple of paces and held out her hand for the padd.  

“How did they go?” Erin asked taking the padd from him and flipping through screens full of diagnostic information.

“All systems are working at peak efficiency. Nothing amiss was detected,” Lorian said.

“Well,” Erin said rubbing at her towel wrapped neck with her free hand. “At least that’s one worry out of the way.”

“The quarters you wished prepared are also ready,” Lorian added.

Erin looked up from the padd. “Excellent. Good work Mr. Lorian.”

At the same time, Lorian—who wasn’t looking at her but at something over her shoulder--  said rather mildly in warning, “Captain.”

Erin felt it more than she saw it. A sudden shift in the way the air against her skin moved. She was coming after herself again. Erin had forgotten in her embarrassment that she’d programmed this to be a no-holds-barred match. It went on until someone won with no breaks between rounds. Her holographic self had taken the opening her momentary distraction had given her. Without thinking Erin reacted, stepping back on one foot and turning into a spinning back fist.  Her duplicate took the blow hard between the shoulder blades as she attempted to tackle Erin and was catapulted past Erin and thrown to the ground face first by the force of the blow.

“Point,” the computer declared again.

The duplicate started to scurry up to come back for more when Erin barked. “Computer freeze program!”

Instantly Erin’s duplicate paused in motion, midway off the ground. “Forgot about her,” Erin muttered embarrassedly again and a little shaken though she hid it well. The dream version of herself and snuck up on her when she least expected it as well. “Remove opponent and resume program.” The computer complied and the duplicate of herself disappeared before the environment around them came back to life.

“From your dossier I was aware that you took advanced hand-to-hand at the Academy and are accomplished in Judo and what you call ‘street fighting’ but I did not know you practiced Tsunkatse, Captain,” Lorian noted with a hint of deep disapproval.

“Let me guess. You disapprove because it’s a crude, bloody, violent, uncivilized sport,” Erin said handing the padd back to him.

He took the padd back saying, “I was not going to word it as such but as you have described it so adequately… Yes, Captain.”

Erin nodded, licking a thin film of sweat from her lips. Even without exertion you couldn’t help but sweat up here despite the occasional breeze. Erin had programmed it to be as accurate a replica as possible and the real location on Earth sometimes reached upwards of one hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit during the day in the summer months. “Does a knife kill?”

Lorian’s brows pulled together. “Of course not Captain.”

“But put it in the hands of a killer and it will. Tsunkatse is a tool, nothing more. The person wielding it is what makes it ‘violent and uncivilized’ or not.”

“Point taken, Captain,” Lorian acceded. Then he dropped into silence again, casting his eyes down--dare Erin say it—shyly. Or was it just in thought?

“Something wrong, Commander?” Erin asked worriedly.

He looked up again and very casually said, “I have been reviewing the _Devil’s Trap’s_ classified mission logs that were inaccessible to me before my instatement aboard the ship. On one such mission you noted that the _Devil’s Trap_ and its crew were sent through the Guardian of Forever to stardate 7403.96 where you encountered the _USS Enterprise_.”

“Yes,” Erin said curious as to why he was asking about that particular mission. She didn’t object to him reading the logs, classified or not if he was going to serve on a ship that made a habit of going on missions that continually ended up in the classified file, he deserved to know what he had gotten himself into. “That was the incident with General B’Vat directly after his attempt to attack the Federation with a Doomsday Device failed. He had something of a hissy fit over it. Why do you ask?”

“You recorded that you assisted the _Enterprise_ when it was attacked by B’Vat’s ships and that on your return it was the _Enterprise_ that assisted you in holding off the Klingons long enough to escape back through the temporal rift,” Lorian said. So far, all he’d done was quote her own log entry at her, paraphrased.

“Yes,” Erin said pulling the towel from around her neck and mopping her face with it.

“Ambassador, then Commander, Spock was in command of the _Enterprise_ at that time,” Lorian said.

“Get to the point Commander Lorian,” Erin pressed growing tired of what with a Vulcan amounted to beating around the bush, the towel dangled limply from her hand.

The Vulcan clutched the padd in both hands, then let it drop by his side. “You spoke with him. I wondered if you might tell me what he said.”

Erin’s brows rose in mild confusion. “You read the logs.”

“Yes, Captain. I hoped you would tell me in your own words,” Lorian said perfectly reasonably, as though he were only asking for academic purposes and perhaps he was but for the way he kept working up to asking her in the first place.

“The logs _are_ my own words,” Erin pointed out tossing the towel back on the rock she’d had it on before. Lorian’s expression never changed but his eyes did. They looked…crestfallen. Erin couldn’t help be grin widely. “Why Mr. Lorian I do believe you have a case of hero-worship,” she teased lightly.

“I admire the Ambassador a great deal,” Lorian said seriously by way of refuting her but not denying it. “My parents, my mother in particular, aided the Ambassador in his efforts at Unification.”

Erin’s expression softened. She’d known from his previous comments that he agreed with at least some of Ambassador Spock’s ideas but she hadn’t realize he idolized the man. Erin admired Ambassador Spock tremendously as well, it was nearly impossible not to but he wasn’t the person she held up as her hero. That title went to someone else.

“I hate to disappoint you Commander but our conversations lasted all of thirty seconds total,” she said. “The temporal prime directive.” Lorain’s eyes took on that crestfallen look again. “But as I recall,” she hastened to say, “After we aided the _Enterprise_ against the Klingons he very cordially thanked us for our help. Afterward, when we were attacked again by the Klingons while trying to return to our time frame the Ambassador reversed course to assist and informed us he had figured out we had come through a portal opened by the Guardian of Forever. Then he kindly offered to hold off the Klingons long enough for us to escape and told us to Live Long and Prosper.”

Lorian nodded but his eyes looked disappointed that there was not more to tell. Erin took pity on him. She knew what it was to have a hero up on a pedestal and people needed their heroes, today more than ever. “We had taken substantial damage in the previous battle and had he not, we would surely not have made it back through the rift. The crew of the _Devil’s Trap_ owes him our lives.”

Lorian’s eyes brightened again at that though his face stubbornly refused to exude more than perfect placidity. It wasn’t a lie. They had had only a short time to get through the temporal rift before it closed again and had been besieged by a second group of Klingons that they couldn’t fight _and_ out run. The _Devil’s Trap_ had saved the _Enterprise_ and the _Enterprise_ had saved the _Devil’s Trap._ She’d just phrased it a bit more poetically than was strictly required.

“Thank you, Captain,” Lorian said with diffident politeness.

“You’re welcome Commander,” Erin replied abstaining from making any comment on the emotionality of his request. Who was she to judge? Vulcans were a notoriously private species. That he had asked her anything of personal value to him at all was a surprise in itself, she would not humiliate him by pointing out it had been an emotional thing to do in the first place. She respected a person’s right to privacy, she was a private person.

Lorian moved a few paces away, looking at the landscape. A breeze ruffled his immaculate black hair as he peered out over the canyon. “The Grand Canyon. You are from this region of Earth are you not?”

“I am. I grew up two hundred and forty five kilometers southwest of here in Lake Havasu City,” Erin said. She came to stand beside him, looking down into the canyon at the jewel bright blue-green waters of the falls below them. It was one of the few verdant places in the canyon, a small moss covered sanctuary dotted with desert palms, spindly mesquite trees and acacia that thrived in the otherwise inhospitable environment. Go a half a kilometer in any direction and you found only scrub bush, cactus and red rock. She had fond memories of this place. “You can’t reach it by anything but foot or horseback. Shuttles are forbidden. My father and I would come up here when I was a child on horseback for picnics. I love it up here,” she found herself saying wistfully without thinking about it. She immediately regretted it. She hadn’t meant to reveal anything so private as her childhood excursions with her father. Further reminded why they had begun having picnics up here and brought to mind the grief that had initiated what had become a Father-Daughter tradition. It had been one of her father’s ideas to help her get over the loss of her mother so young. She didn’t even know why she’d said it. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”

“It is peaceful,” Lorian noted politely not acknowledging Erin’s confession. That was the Vulcan way. You did not call someone out on their lapses in public and certainly not your superior. It would be unconscionably rude by Vulcan standards. Vulcan esteem for privacy went so far that on Vulcan, when speaking to someone in public, if they did not return the greeting of ‘I see you’ with ‘I am seen,’ you left them politely alone and took no offense because of it. She was grateful for the high value they placed on privacy just now.

“It is,” she agreed be for she changed the focus of the conversation to Lorian, uncomfortable with her own lapse. “I suppose it’s about as close as you can get to Vulcan on Earth for you isn’t it?”

Lorian looked at her. “There are no waterfalls on Vulcan, Captain. And it is significantly cooler here.”

Erin chuckled at him. “Well no but walk half a kilometer. All you’ll find is dirt and rock with a few water-starved scrub bushes for scenery.”

“Nevertheless you are correct. It is the closest approximation Earth has save for perhaps the African Sahara.”

“You grew up on Vulcan didn’t you? Instead of Earth. In Vulcana Regar I believe.”

“That is correct, Captain,” Lorian observed. He was still looking out over the canyon and to Erin’s mind seemed to be enjoying the faint hot breezes afford this high up on the cliffs.

“I also seem to recall that you are quite skilled in Suus Mahna.” Suus Mahna was a Vulcan Martial Art that took years of study to master. It was so complex most Vulcans who studied it never reached mastery level. 

Lorian looked at her then with a considering air.

“I may have been late in doing it but I do study the records of all the officers on my ship,” Erin said amused. An idea struck her. “I’ve never sparred with a Vulcan before. What do you say to a round or two?”

Lorian arched on angular brow and looked a bit offset by her request. “I am not certain that would appropriate, Captain. And I am not familiar with Tsunkatse’s techniques.”

“Forget rank for a moment, Mr. Lorian. And you don’t need to be familiar with Tsunkatse. That’s the whole idea. It’s a mixed marital art, it borrows from every other martial art it can get its hands on,” Erin encouraged.

“Why then do you not practice a more socially accepted variety?” Lorian asked perplexed.

“Because while it unabashedly steals from other forms of martial arts it isn’t as ritualized. Other martial arts have set techniques. This move is countered with that one without any thinking on your feet. Sure it has its methods and techniques but you can’t learn Tsunkatse from a book or by doing katas. You never know what you will be facing in Tsunkatse so you must anticipate the unexpected. You must find your opponent’s weakness and exploit it before they exploit yours. You have to think. But unlike street fighting it is far more disciplined.”

Lorian stood there considering that for a moment. “What you describe is a very challenging art that requires great mental focus. Almost a form of active meditation.”

Erin grinned thinking about what he’d said in turn. “I suppose it is,” she said. “I suppose that’s why I like it. So what do you say?”

Lorian looked hesitant again. He shook his head slightly. “I am a Vulcan, Captain. Even if it were not inappropriate for me to engage in such an activity with my superior officer I am three times faster and stronger than you are. The possibility that I might injure you would be unacceptably high.”

“I said forget rank for a moment, Mr. Lorian. We’re just two martial artists testing our skills against one another. So you’re stronger and faster than me. That only makes it an even better test. Besides it’s not as if whoever taught you didn’t outrank you and you sparred with them didn’t you? Makes this perfectly logical wouldn’t you say? And don’t worry about hurting me, I can handle myself.”

Lorian stood there for a long moment considering it. “Very well, Captain.” He laid the padd he was holding on a nearby rock and neatly removed his uniform jacket, folding it up carefully before he laid it on top of the padd. In nothing but the black trousers and science blue short-sleeved undershirt his, possibly deliberate, resemblance to Ambassador Spock in his youth was strikingly apparent.

Erin quickly explained the rules of Tsunkatse to him of which there were few. Almost anything was allowed in the attempt to strike your opponent’s body harness save trying to kill them or break a bone…in the modified Federation approved version at least. Then she instructed the computer to provide him with holographic substitutions for hand and foot sensors and body harness. He donned them and they began.

“May I remind you Captain, you have been exerting yourself against your holographic double for some time. You are not at optimal efficiency. I, on the other hand, have not,” he said as they slowly, almost carelessly circled one another looking for an opportunity. Lorian moved gracefully, pure conserved motion. It made watching him almost hypnotic.

He was right, of course. But unless Erin mistaked herself there was a touch of boastfulness in his ‘advice’. “Duly noted. Now stop talking and try to hit me.”

He complied, swinging with a right hook at her head. Erin ducked and came up on the other side intending to back fist him along his temple but quicker than she could strike, his arm had retracted and come up in a block that stopped her short.

He _was_ fast. Very fast. Erin compensated by flipping her wrist and seizing his arm. She twisted it under and behind, throwing him off balance. Lorian grunted and stumbled. Erin, with a thrill of impending victory, raised her foot to do to him the same thing she had to her double. Shove it home in the crook of his knee and take him down.

Instead, Lorian rolled forward into the fall, catching her ankle in one hand and dragging her down with him. Erin yelped in surprise. With a strong tug, he made to drag her the rest of the way to him and strike the front sensor of her body harness. It would end the match in one hit.

Erin thought fast. She grabbed a hand full of photonic dirt and twisted over, exposing her sensor. He let go of her ankle to strike home. Erin flung the dirt in his face. It wouldn’t actually hurt him, the holodeck safety protocols were engaged. But he would react as if it would instinctively. Lorian turned his head aside and shut his eyes against the debris and bought Erin the second she needed to scramble to her feet.

Lorian got up and resumed circling her. His face was a mask meant to give nothing of his intended action away. “That was unfair, Captain.”

“There’s no such thing as a fair fight, Mr. Lorian. Tsunkatse is about real world tactics. I seriously doubt the next bad guy you meet is going to fight fair. The point of Tsunkatse is to win.”  She was slick with sweat and panting. Lorian wasn’t even breathing hard.

One slender brow arched high in response and he inclined his head in acknowledgment. Then he struck again, this time with a swift mid-kick. Erin smacked it away with her arm and he stepped into the space her block had left him nearly catching her chest sensor with a palm strike but that Erin dodge at the last moment.

They went on like this for a while, neither able to gain a point on the other. Erin was beginning to seriously flag. She needed to find a weakness to attack but he didn’t seem to _have_ one. No matter how she feinted or what she did, he seemed to anticipate it a split second before she completed it and countered.

Erin’s adrenalin was pumping and she felt invigorated if not relieved of her frustrations. But she couldn’t go on much longer and she knew it. If this kept on he’d win simply by out lasting her. If he wouldn’t expose himself, she was going to have to make him do it.

She lagged back, letting her exhaustion show. “You’re…better at this…than I anticipated,” she panted. She let herself stagger as they circled each other for the hundredth time.

“We can stop if you wish Captain,” Lorian offered.

“Ha, and concede the match? Nu uh,” Erin said and kept circling, she let her feet drag a bit. She swung at him in a feigned feeble attempt to land a blow and Lorian easily blocked it. But he hesitated to counter attack. Worried about pushing too far. His right heel came up off the ground in his indecision. Erin took the opening and dropped, her leg swinging out in a low leg sweep. Lorian, taken by surprise, fell backward unable to catch himself in time. He hit the dirt with a hard thud and Erin came up with the sweep’s momentum, planting her heel firmly on his chest sensor. 

“Point,” the computer declared.

“I win,” Erin said not too triumphantly. The match wasn’t officially over but he was prone on his back. There wasn’t much he could do but concede.

Suddenly Lorian’s hands clasped over her foot on his chest, holding it there and his leg snaked up and wrapped around the front of hers. He sat up quickly and now it was Erin who toppled backward with a stunned bark.

She hit the ground and tried to turn over so she could scramble away but faster and stronger than she was, not to mention less spent, Lorian quickly pinned her to the ground, straddling her waist, his hands pinning her wrists down above her head, uselessly.  His weight prevented her from dislodging him and he was too high to knee him in the groin to gain an advantage. She couldn’t get her wrists free from his vice-like grip. He transferred her wrists to one hand and hit her chest sensor with the other. It blinked very rapidly and then went out.

“Tsunkat!” the computer declared.  The match was over.

“On the contrary, Captain. I believe I have won,” Lorian said, hovering over her.

“So you have,” Erin admitted.

Lorian was breathing harder now than he had been, his perfectly neat hair was mussed and he had dirt smudged on his face. He looked down at her, his weight shifting in preparation to release her and their eyes met. Sea-green and depthless blue. They both froze for an instant. Abruptly Erin’s heartbeat fluttered and her throat tightened.  Lorian seemed to have been set as off kilter as she was. His gaze never wavered but his eyebrows pulled together as if he were confused. Erin swallowed hard and blinked to free herself from whatever it was that held her frozen.

“We should probably get cleaned up. We’re due on the bridge soon,” she muttered. Lorian blinked as if she’d startled him.

“Of course, Captain,” he said abruptly and got up swiftly.

Erin got to her feet and Lorian, wisely, didn’t offer to assist her. Erin didn’t know what had just happened. Lorian did things she didn’t expect. Shouldn’t a logical being be predictable? He made her say things she didn’t mean to say for no discernible reason. Why was that? What had just happened between them? Erin shook it off and Lorain was very quiet as he removed the holographic body harness and put his uniform jacket back on before smoothing his hair out.

“It was a good match,” Erin said weakly as she dusted herself off and fetched her towel.

“You are a formidable opponent,” Lorian replied.

“Thank you…I think. You too,” Erin said wiping away the worst of the sweat. It sounded exactly as awkward as it was.

He looked back at her. Erin swallowed hard again. “We should go.”

“Yes,” Lorian agreed.

“Computer end program and save,” Erin called to the air. Havasu Falls disappeared, and with it the photonic dirt, leaving only the sweat behind. All that was left was the intricate cross-hatching of the hologrid in the eighteen by eighteen foot room. And two decidedly rattled—but hiding it--humanoids.

“Program saved,” the computer said.

 

***

 

 As Erin and Lorian exited the holodeck and began to turn in the direction of the turbolift to go back to their quarters, Commander Singer came along.

“Just the person I was looking for,” Dean said. He was waving a padd in one hand. “Figured you’d be here.” Then he seemed to notice her attire and the condition Erin was in, and though he was fair less rumpled than his Captain, the condition Lorian was in. He looked between them quizzically for an instant.

“Does no one on this ship know how to use the communications system anymore?” Erin muttered to herself before saying to Dean, “You were busy and Commander Lorian kindly offered to take your place as my sparring partner this morning.” She felt embarrassed to have run into her First Officer in the corridor like this for no discernible reason. “He’s very accomplished in Suus Mahna.”

“Ah.” Dean’s brows rose a bit. “Then why do you look like I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar?”

“I don’t,” Erin said reflexively.

Lorian cleared his throat and spoke up briefly. “I should go change.” He nodded at Erin. “Captain.” Then he nodded at Dean. “Commander.” Dean nodded in return and Lorian took his leave of them as calmly as he ever was, leaving Erin alone with her First Officer eyeing her suspiciously.

Dean glanced back the way Lorian had gone and then back at Erin. Erin started moving in the same direction Lorian had gone, pointedly going back to her quarters for her morning shower. “Why were you looking for me?” she asked as Singer fell into step beside her.

Dean held the padd in her direction. “The review of the new crew is done. Breakfast?”

Of course,” she said as she took the padd and looked it over as they walked. It was regular habit for Captain and First Officer to take their morning meal together aboard ship in the ship’s lounge, Ten-Fore. It presented a friendly, open air to the crew and made them both easily accessible instead of aloof and unapproachable as some commanding officers were. The fact that it was simply something friends did not withstanding.  “Anything to be worried about?”

“Not that I can find. They all passed their physicals fine. Psych exams found nothing out of the ordinary and they didn’t exhibit any suspect behavior during my interviews,” Dean said professionally. “Oh, and Cass is done with the pheromonal inhibitor shots you requested.”

Erin shook her head. That was good news. But though she’d gotten the same sort of good news from Lorian about the diagnostics and their sparring session had done what it was supposed to—let her forget for a while—albeit then leaving her feeling confused and rattled as to what had happened between them there at the end, she still felt uneasy. And that under current of belligerent anger that wouldn’t go away lurked just beneath the surface as strong as ever. “That’s great. Wonderful. But I just can’t shake the feeling that something is _wrong_.”

“You’re just stressed, Erin,” Dean insisted gently, then added teasingly, “And a little bit paranoid. It’s this whole Code 47 business. We’ll get it over with and you’ll bounce right back.”

“The thing with paranoia is that you only have to be right once,” Erin quipped back. She briefly considered telling him about the nightmare and then decided against it. They might be best friends as well as Captain and First Officer but she couldn’t look weak to her crew. A crew with a weak leader was a crew with no morale and no faith in that leader.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes at her. “Lighten up a little, Captain. On us and especially yourself. You’re too serious lately.” He grinned. “Besides it looked like you and our new Chief Science Officer were having fun.”

“Pardon?” Erin said startled.

“You and Mr. Lorian,” Dean reiterated. “You seemed to have been enjoying yourselves. You should do it more often.” He made a tsk-ing sound. “I dunno though… first he manages to get through to you in the Admiral’s office when I couldn’t. That was astounding. Then you tell him what pretty eyes he has. Now you two are sparring together….” He said it in a singsong joking way and then abruptly halted, his eyes widening as if he had just tabulated his own observations for the first time. “Wait… you don’t _like_ him do you?”

Erin halted as well to stare at him askance. There was no mistaking what Dean meant by ‘like’. “What? No!”

Dean held his hands up in placation. “I’m not judging.”

“There’s nothing to judge. It was just sparring, that’s all,” Erin insisted. “And could you please lower your voice before you start rumors,” she added in a hiss.

“It was just sparring?” Dean said though he did lower his voice to a near whisper.

“Yes.”

“You’ve never told me my eyes were pretty.”

“I’ve never told you you’re the brother I never wanted either,” Erin shot back and resumed course for the turbolift.

“Awww, I’m touched Captain,” Dean said, “And slightly offended. But back to the subject at hand. Is there something going on between you two?”

“He’s my Second Officer, Dean. If I wouldn’t let anything happen between us what makes you think I’d let it happened between me and Commander Lorian? It wouldn’t be professional,” Erin insisted. Why did Dean insist upon trying to make inferences where there were none? She and Lorian had just been sparring. So, what if she’d said the color of his eyes was lovely. She had _not_ called them pretty. She’d said they were striking. She’d been commenting on the _color_ not _his_ _eyes_. It didn’t mean anything.

“But you aren’t denying that there’s something between you just that you wouldn’t act on it?”

“Dean,” Erin said warningly.

“Okay,” Dean relented. “All I’m saying is that a little romance in your life might do you good. I mean, when’s the last time you had a date? What was it? That Bajoran guy on DS9? That was what? A year ago?”

“Eight months ago and his name was Devan,” Erin said irritably. “I haven’t exactly had time for dates.”

“See? You’re due for a little romance. Though I don’t know how romantic it could be with a Vulcan.”

“I’m not you Dean,” Erin said testily. “I don’t need to seduce every member of the opposite sex I meet.” It wasn’t that Erin was prudish. She was anything but. Her libido was perfectly healthy. She just wasn’t as blatant about it as Commander Singer. She preferred to keep her personal life private, even the brief romantic interludes that mattered little.

 “The point is,” Dean said ignoring her insult completely, “You deserve it. Even if it is with a Vulcan.” He shook his head. “You and a Vulcan. I just can’t picture that. You’re just too…emotional.”

“If you do not shut up I will call an Emergency Staff Meeting of the Senior Officers and exclude you, then you can go eat breakfast with Nilsa,” Erin threatened. Dean had no problem with Nilsa but the Klingon was not his first choice for meal partners. He started getting nauseous at the sight of ‘gagh’, the live, wriggling worms that were a preferred staple of Klingon cuisine.

“Alright,” Dean said giving up his mission to convince Erin to seek leisure doing something, even dating a Vulcan _that there was nothing with_ as they reached the turbo lift.

“I’ll meet you in Ten-Fore in thirty minutes,” Erin said stepping inside. “And Dean,” she said as the doors began to close. “Even if I was going to start actively dating, I wouldn’t start with a Vulcan.” Then she pressed the button to shut the turbo lift doors faster before he could get on too and continue haranguing her.

As the doors clicked shut and left her blessedly alone she drew in a deep breath. It should have been comforting but it wasn’t and in the back of her head she could hear her dream-self whispering again. _“Beware. Peril awaits you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review


	4. Chapter 4

Thirty minutes later, Captain Winchester was clean, in uniform and eating breakfast with Commander Singer in Ten-Fore. The name was kind of silly really. They hadn’t wanted to call it Ten-Forward because it was too much like stealing from the _Enterprise_ but the ship’s lounge _was_ on deck ten in the forward section, starboard side. So the crew had decided to make the name a play on words. Ten-Fore instead of Ten-Four. An old Earth term used by police and military forces in the 21 st century to refer to acknowledgment of a radio communication. Erin still couldn’t see why the rest of the crew thought it was so funny. It made no sense to her but whatever made them happy. It was just a name.

Around them were many of the Alpha shift aboard the _Devil’s Trap_ still trying to wake up. In thirty minutes they’d be replaced by Gamma shift, the shift Alpha was relieving. Erin was not, on a normal basis, anything close to a ‘morning person’. She drank coffee by the pots full and was jokingly referred to as Captain Grouchy until she’d had at least a full cup. But seeing as she’d been up for hours already she was less inclined to grumble over breakfast this morning.

At one of the smaller metallic tables with their chairs that looked as if they’d been made from one long piece of felted material that had been shaped over an actual chair were Lieutenant Commanders Campbell and Harvelle. The Ops Manager and the Chief Engineer were talking in hushed voices over their meals and smiling at each other often. Occasionally one of them would touch the other’s hand on the tabletop affectionately. It was no secret that the two were a couple and as long as it didn’t interfere with their duties, Erin saw no need to interfere.

Nearby and much less hushed were Lieutenant Commander Talia and Lieutenants Nilsa and Pril boisterously bonding over their breakfast. They sometimes drew looks of ire from the less morning loving crew.

Cass was situated at a table with Lieutenant Commander Janira Triven and a couple of junior officers from the science division. They seemed to be engaged in an in depth discussion of some sort but when one of them laughed Erin heard Cass shake his head and say ‘I don’t understand that reference.’

The Romulan, Law, was quietly but not uncomfortably sitting a little further away engrossed in a data padd while drinking a glass of carrallun—which was closest in equivalent to a glass of orange juice on Earth. No one was shunning him they were simply not bothering him.

Commander Lorian was nowhere to be found. He had either decide to skip breakfast or he was taking it in his quarters. Which Erin wasn’t displeased with. If he wasn’t here she didn’t have to think about what had happened on the holodeck and Dean would be less inclined to tease her further. On the bridge, she could be just Captain Winchester. Off it, she started becoming Erin with all the faults therewith.  She had enough to deal with as it was.

But that aside, it was a morning, like any other morning aboard the _Devil’s Trap_ despite the fact that they were almost to Starbase 39 for their secret rendezvous. It had been a tense three days but the crew had managed not to drive Erin to drink with suspicious and wondering looks…yet.

She took a bite of her honey coated guava pastry and then licked the residue delicately from her fingertips before wiping them on a napkin to remove the rest of the stickiness. The confection was a messy treat but she very much liked guava pastries and she’d felt the desire to indulge given everything that had happened. She washed it down with a swig of hot black coffee as Dean went on about some snafu with one of the junior officers that had been cause for great amusement to those present at the time. He never stopped shoveling mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, sausage and syrup drowned pancakes to do it.

Erin repressed the urge to reach across the table to smack his hand and admonish him for his lack of table manners. Once Dean got started on something his manners went right out the window in the presence of those he was comfortable with.

“So then, Lieutenant Ash says, ‘Business in the front. Party in the back.’ Everyone died laughing you should have been there,” Dean said, finishing relating his tale.

Erin chuckled lightly in response but she honestly hadn’t heard half of what he’d said. She had been thinking and now she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Who’s your hero Commander?”

Dean paused with a fork of dripping pancake half way to his mouth. He lowered the fork and frowned in confusion. “What made you ask that?”

Erin shrugged. “Back on the holodeck Lorian and I had a conversation . His hero is Ambassador Spock. He was pumping me for exact details of my conversation with the Ambassador during the Guardian of Forever incident. He very much admires the Ambassador. I’ve known him all of three days. I’ve known you for more than two years and I’ve never thought to ask you who yours is.”

Dean sat back in his chair. “Well, I never could make up my mind to be honest. It was always a tie between Admiral William Riker and Tom Paris.”

Erin laughed genuinely then. “That figures.” She took another drink her coffee.

Dean popped his delayed bite of pancake into his mouth and said around it, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It just does. It fits you,” Erin said. “Have you ever met either of them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. But I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself if I did.” Then he leaned forward on the table with his elbows and motioned at her with his fork. “What about you, Captain? Who’s your hero?”

Erin sat her coffee cup back down and glanced away for a moment. “You’ll laugh.”

“I will not laugh. I swear,” Dean swore holding up one hand as if he were being sworn in for something.

“It’s so stereotypical,” Erin insisted.

“Out with it,” Dean encouraged.

“James T. Kirk,” Erin confessed and waited for the undoubtedly forthcoming snicker of derision for picking someone _everybody_ picked. “It was always my dream to serve on the _Enterprise_ because of him even though he’s long dead. My great-grandfather had the pleasure but he was no one important to the crew. I put in for assignment to the _Enterprise_ straight out of the academy but I got assigned to the _Impala_ instead and the rest is history.”

“I should have known,” Dean said grinning, but true to his word he didn’t laugh.

“I told you it was stereotypical,” Erin said.

“No, no. It’s not that. So what if it’s stereotypical? It’s just, I can see it now. It makes sense,” Dean said quick to assuage her. “Come to think of it I can’t see your hero being anyone else.”

“Okay what’s _that_ mean?” Erin asked. She never got to find out. The communications system intercom came on.

“Bridge to Captain Winchester.” It was one of the Gamma shift bridge crew, Lieutenant Tran who headed up the night watch by the sound of it.

Erin tapped her combadge to respond. “Winchester here, go ahead.”

“We’re approaching Starbase 39, Captain.”

“ETA?”

“Fifteen minutes, Captain.”

“Acknowledged. I’m on my way,” Erin said already starting to rise to her feet. Idle conversation and the rest of breakfast would have to wait. Dean got up as well and whistled to get people’s attention. He motioned to the other senior bridge officers in the lounge to come with them with a whirl of his finger in the air and they abandoned their meals as well. Leaving only Doctor Novak and Lieutenant Commander Harvelle to finish theirs since their regular post was not directly on the bridge but in sickbay and engineering respectively.

Erin tapped her combadge again. “Captain to Commander Lorian.”

“Yes Captain?” came the immediate reply.

“We’re on approach to Starbase 39. Report to the bridge,” Erin instructed.

“Understood,” Lorian replied smartly. Then Erin turned to leave the lounge with her senior officers tailing behind.  The time for relaxation, such as it was and riddled with tension, was over. Now maybe they’d all find out what the hell was going on. Erin wasn’t sure if that should be a relief or not but all she felt was dread.

 

***

 

It took the bridge crew, all seven crammed into the turbolift which made it a tight fit, to reach the bridge. They all piled out, looking far more put together than six people just crammed in a turbolift had a right to, with Erin at the head of the pack. Lieutenant Tran, a short youthful looking fellow of Vietnamese ancestry with a shock of back hair that refused to actually lay down no matter how much he combed it stood up from the Captain’s chair like he was attached to springs.

“Thank you Lieutenant. That will be all,” Erin said before he could utter the ubiquitous ‘Captain on the bridge’. He snapped his mouth shut and looked a little startled. “Gamma shift you are dismissed. We’ll handle it from here.”

Swiftly but with practiced ease the befuddled members of the bridge nightshift handed over their stations and filed out without complaint but that didn’t stop them from casting curious glances back at their superiors as the senior crew settled in. Erin would liked to have told them something but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell her senior staff. The Code 47 that had brought her here forbade it.

Erin sat down in the Captain’s chair, put her shoulders back and drew in a slow, deep breath just as Commander Lorian popped out of the turbolift to the surprise of three of the nightshift who were about to take the next turbolift after the first batch had departed. He neatly sidled past them and took his chair wordlessly. Commander Singer had taken his and looked completely serious. A rare state for Dean.

“We are entering thhhe Sssierra Sssystem now, Captain. ETA to Ssstarbassse thhhirty nine, ten minutesss,” Pril hissed.

“Don’t drop us out of warp until we’re on the door step Pril,” Erin said. She had unconsciously griped the edges of her armrests with apprehension and was sitting on the edge of her chair.

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Pril responded with a curt bob of his red reptilian head.

No one was talkative as the final few minutes ticked away, they were all looking at the view screen anxiously, as if when they came out of warp some horrible scene would meet their eyes. But as they dropped out of warp into normal space, nothing did.

Only the familiar sight of Starbase 39-Sierra orbiting the shattered remains of a planet that had been split in two in the 22nd Century because of over mining by the Romulans. When they hit deuterium pockets the entire planet had sheered itself into two halves, casting debris and bits of its self into space to be caught in what was left of the broken planet’s inertia creating an asteroid belt of its remains. The ionized atmosphere had reached much further, the chemicals and gases expanding to envelope half the system in a foggy green gas cloud.

The lights of Starbase 39 winked bright blue in the green haze. Starbase 39-Sierra was barely half the size of Earth Spacedock but it was the most significant starbase on the edge of the Romulan Neutral Zone. From here all other efforts along the Neutral Zone were coordinated, including the Romulan Task Force Erin and her crew were a part of.  Being so small meant that few Federation ships could fit in the docking bay. Many like the Devil’s Trap wouldn’t even fit through the doors so to facilitate repairs there were space-faring dry docks that orbited the station like hollow frames where workbee shuttles and technicians in EVA suits bounced around on starship hulls conducting repairs. Because of the limited space, primary transport to Starbase 39 from shipboard was by transporter or shuttle.

Around the station ships from all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants drifted. Ferengi freighters full of goods to be sold at the highest possible price. Starfleet starships with crews either just returning from or heading out on missions or as was evidenced by the full dry docks, putting in for repairs. Frigates from everywhere imaginable picking up or dropping off cargo. Despite its remote location Starbase 39 was anything but idle.

Pril has dropped them out of warp as close as he could to the starbase without hitting anyone and all while calculating it from warp 9.99. There was a reason Erin had chosen him for her crew. He could make a starship do things most people thought impossible.

“Clossse enough Captain?” Pril said, a note of prideful teasing in his voice.

“Any closer and we wouldn’t have to transport down. We could just walk off,” Sam quipped from the Ops station next to him. Pril laughed, a low hissing rattle.

Erin wanted to laugh but she was too tense. “Close enough Lieutenant. Assume standard orbit.”

“Yesss, sssir,” Pril said promptly just as Janira pipped up from the communications station. “Docking Control is hailing us.”

“Already?” Dean said in surprise. Erin looked at him and frowned. They’d never been hailed before they’d even transmitted for clearance to dock before.

“On screen,” Erin ordered. Janira tapped on her console and abruptly the view of Starbase 39 was replaced with a huge view of a squat Tellarite woman. Erin was familiar with her from their frequent visits to the starbase. Her name was Vita and with her frizzy brown hair, wrinkled skin, horizontal ears and pug nose of her kind she always put Erin in mind of a cross between a pig and a dwarf from old Earth legend. She never spoke to anyone with less than impatience and that was if she was in a _good_ mood. Tellarites were a snippy, argumentative species. So much so that many would start insulting someone they had just met for no reason other than to start an argument. To complicate things being insulted was often a _compliment_ that meant the exact opposite of what was said and you had to figure out which it was. Compared to most Tellarites, Vita was downright pleasant.

Considering the potential for misunderstanding by those not familiar with Tellarite custom Erin often wondered at Admiral T’nae’s decision to appoint the Tellarite to docking control.

“Vita,” Erin said careful not to sound the least bit polite. Politeness to a Tellarite was insulting.  “This is Captain Winchester of the _Devil’s_ …”

“I know who you are Captain. Do you think I’m so stupid I’d forget who you are in a matter of weeks?” Vita snipped. Everyone else had to bite their lips in order not to snicker at the Tellarite. They were used to her caustic manner. Lorian however lifted one slanted brow very high at her impudence.

“No, Vita. I’m suggesting you went right past stupid to imbecile,” Erin shot back. The Tellarite snorted but seemed mildly placated. “We’re responding to a Code…”

“I know what you are responding to. You’re expected. You’re cleared to transport down immediately,” Vita said. “Assume standard orbit, if you can manage it. Incompetent morons.”

The view screen clicked off.

 “A most peculiar individual,” Lorian noted of the Tellarite.

“That’s one way to put it Commander,” Sam agreed.

“At least this time she didn’t call me a…what was it?” Erin asked looking at Dean to help her recall.

“’A useless waste of cells crammed into a uniform that was worth more than you were’, I believe,” Dean offered.

“An interesting insult,” Lorian observed.

“I _think_ it was meant as a compliment,” Erin said and stood up. “Commander Singer you have the bridge while I’m gone.”

Dean nodded acceptingly his expression pinching again. Erin took a second to look at them all keeping the worry she felt off her face. They’d been called here to assist Admiral Zelle on a secret mission. What sort of mission it was remained to be seen but anything that Starfleet felt warranted a Code 47 and complete secrecy couldn’t be good and was most likely very dangerous. She was worried for what her crew might be facing.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said and entered the turbolift.

 

***

Captain Winchester materialized on Starbase 39’s transporter pad to be immediately met with an armed security detail waiting for her. They stood at ease, blocking the way off the pad so she had no choice but to wait for them to allow her to step down. Immediately, Erin’s hackles went up. She didn’t like being met with force where none was required.

“Captain Winchester?” the lead security officer, a very stern looking woman with short blonde hair, asked. Like Erin’s crew, the staff of Starbase 39 all wore the same uniform instead of the hodge-podge many places allowed. But they were not the same uniforms Erin’s crew wore. Like Earth Spacedock, Starbase 39’s uniforms had their own style. They were the reverse of the color scheme Erin’s ship used, the primary color denoting division and the accents being black. They were also almost completely knit save for the bits of black accenting. To Erin they just looked like someone had given them a bunch of appropriately colored sweaters for lack of something else to wear but it wasn’t her starbase. At least everyone wore the same sort of uniform. Erin’s crew wore the style that had been regulation, the last time Starfleet _had_ uniform regulations. There was nothing wrong with being a traditionalist now and again.

“I am,” Erin said testily to the security officer.

“If you’ll follow me, Captain. We’ll escort you to your destination,” the security officer said and stepped back. She was the only one to do so. Erin had to step off the pad between the other two officers. She did not like it at all. She wondered if perhaps she should have come armed herself. Though what the hell for she couldn’t imagine. It was a Starfleet starbase there should be no need to escort one of its Captains with an armed security detail.

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll pop over to the bar to have a few Cardassian Sunrises first? Or do you think I’ll get lost?”

One of the other security officers, a Caitain with feline-esque features down to the leonine tail that swayed languidly behind him, cracked a fanged grin over her quip. The blonde security officer relented a bit, her face softening.

“We’re just following orders, Captain.”

Erin exhaled harshly through her nose. “Whose orders?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” the woman replied.

“Of course you aren’t,” Erin muttered darkly. She seriously considered hitting her combadge and demanding to be beamed up, then refusing to do anything until someone came to _her_ but she knew better. There was no way around it. She had to accept the escort or she wasn’t going to get out of the transporter room. Erin stepped off the transporter pad.

She just didn’t understand why she needed a security escort to go a hundred yards. The turbolift to the Admiral’s Office was right around the corner and she’d been there numerous times before. “Let’s get this over with.”

The woman security officer motioned Erin to proceed her out the door and Erin went, the other two bracketing her while the woman brought up the rear. Like she were a common criminal being hauled in. Admiral T’Nae was going to get a pointy earful about this.

Unsurprisingly they drew curious stares from the crowds of people going about their business as they made their short way from the transporter room, past the ramp that led to a walkway overhead and to the door of the turbolift. This lift went to one destination. The Admiral’s Office. People from everywhere possible whispered and tried to figure out what was going on. If the point of the Code 47 was to be subtle about all this, it was failing miserably.

Like many of the outskirt starbases, there was nothing aesthetically pleasing about its interior. It was all drape gray. The only caveat being the curving pylons that supported the outer walls that added just a touch of appeal to keep the place from looking like a prison instead of a starbase. Erin didn’t much feel like it wasn’t a prison just now as the security detail stopped smartly at the door. The woman security officer reached up and tapped the control panel next to it and the door slid open with a foreboding whoosh. Erin almost refused to step inside as dread embraced her again. She felt like she was going to her execution not a meeting.

_“Beware. Peril awaits you.”_

Erin ignored her paranoid conscious, reached up, tugged her high collar straighter and stepped into the turbolift. Whatever awaited her she was going to face it with dignity.

The lift rose all of one deck before the doors opened and deposited her in the Admiral’s office. She veered slightly to the right as she entered and the doors shut behind her, to avoid the Markonian Prehensile Vine plant she knew Admiral T’Nae kept there. It had a habit of reaching out its vines like tentacles and seizing anyone who passed too close. It had grabbed Erin by the hair the first time she’d been in the office and it had taken five minutes to convince it to let go without hurting it. Admiral T’Nae hadn’t offered to help she’d simply sat and watched with interest as Erin extracted herself from the plant. Erin was convinced the Vulcan had put it there specifically because it did. Just to throw people off their guard when they came into her office and see how they handled it.

Erin went to throw the Admiral a smug glance that this time the plant hadn’t gotten its leafy appendages on her, her head turning automatically toward the Admiral’s desk on the left of the expansive office. But the Admiral was nowhere to be seen. Erin frowned and looked right, further into the space.

Admiral T’Nae’s office doubled as a conference room and as such, while her desk, a large interactive LCARS console with an interactive star chart displaying a constant feed of real-time data and a cylindrical fish tank much like the one in Erin’s Ready Room took up the left side of the half-moon room…the other half was taken up by a conference table with seating for eight and the large window ports that lined the entire far wall featured long blocky benches that could have accommodated twenty more. Various potted plants decorated the room at every pylon juncture between window ports and a bank of computer consoles took up the far right wall. Models of various starships dangled from the ceiling in gold.

The only person in the huge office was standing in front of one of the huge window ports, contemplatively staring out of it with their back to the door. Slim and tall, they wore the thigh length, fold over, snap front tunic favored by Starfleet’s highest, the edging all done in Admiralty white against the black shoulder pads and red body. White tight fitting trousers peeked from beneath it to disappear into white and black knee high boots. And they were bald as an onion. This then must be Admiral Zelle.

Even if Erin had not already made herself aware of Admiral Zelle’s appearance, the mocha colored cue ball was a dead giveaway.

“Admiral Zelle?” Erin called across the room.

The woman turned. She was beautiful. That she was well into her middle years did nothing to diminish that fact. Her mocha skin nearly matched her sparse but elegantly arched brown eyebrows and her eyes were a shade lighter. Her makeup, done in understated burgundies, blended flawlessly with her complexion and uniform. Her features were a demonstration in perfect symmetrical balance, finely wrought with high cheekbones that every human woman in the quadrant would envy. But that’s all she was. Beautiful. Erin felt none of the sudden overwhelming sexual infatuation that Deltans wrought on other humanoids. Not even a touch of it. Cass’s pheromonal inhibitor injection worked better than expected. Or maybe you had to be closer to be affected.

“Captain Winchester I presume?” the woman asked in the lilting accent common to Deltans. It sounded quite a bit like the accents from the East Indian region on Earth but with a more musical quality to it.

“You presume correctly,” Erin answered. She waved at Admiral T’Nae’s desk. “Where is Admiral T’Nae?” She couldn’t help the sharp edged way the question came out. She was already annoyed and angry about the situation and now Admiral T’Nae couldn’t even be bothered to show up for the Code 47 _she_ had called? It was rude enough for a human but for a Vulcan to be so flippant was beyond rude.

“I’m afraid Admiral T’Nae is in a trade conference. It was unavoidable unfortunately,” Admiral Zelle said. 

“A _trade conference_?” Erin said outraged.

Admiral Zelle frowned apologetically. “You’re angry.”

“A little,” Erin admitted. Denying it to an empath would be a silly waste of time. She’d know Erin was lying even if it weren’t written all over her face. “With all due respect Admiral…she calls me here on a _Code 47_ and then she decides to go to a _trade conference_? And would you mind explaining to me why it was necessary to escort me from the transporter room to the Admiral’s office with an _armed_ security detail like a common criminal?”

The Admiral cast her eyes down as if she were truly ashamed. “Please,” she said motioning for Erin to join her. Erin’s jaw clenched once and then with a brief sigh she went to join the Admiral in front of the view port. It looked out on the space surrounding the starbase and Erin could see the _Devil’s Trap_ drifting by in orbit along with the other ships visiting.

“The security escort was my doing. I didn’t wish to take any risk that you might be accosted or waylaid. I apologize for the subterfuge to bring you here Captain but one can never be too careful. The _Tal Shiar_ have ears everywhere—even in a Federation starbase. Since Admiral T’Nae has handed you over to my command for the duration of this mission I’m sure it was illogical to her to think she needed to be present for this briefing.”

Erin couldn’t understand how having her openly escorted by arm guard helped any of this. In fact, if the Admiral’s intention was to remain covert about what was going on an armed escort in front of a crowd of people on a well trafficked starbase would alert even the totally oblivious that something was up. But Erin let it go. The _Tal Shiar_ was a much graver concern than Erin’s bruised ego. “That’s what this is about? The _Tal Shiar_?” she asked her brow furrowing. Erin knew all too well the danger the _Tal Shiar_ presented. To the Federation, the Klingon Empire and even its own people.

There had been a significant increase in their activity of late and some truly disturbing events.  Erin had been witness to some of them. Most significantly, the atrocities she’d seen at the _Tal Shiar_ administrated Installation 18 on Nimbus III, where they had been experimenting on sentient beings from all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants. Even their own. Erin still got nauseous thinking about the things that had been done to those poor souls. The _Devil’s Trap_ had saved them but Starfleet had never been able to determine what it was the _Tal Shiar_ was trying to accomplish. All the victims could tell them was that they were being experimented on and ‘reconditioned’. For what they had no idea.

Then the _Tal Shiar_ had tried to usurp the Federation’s transwarp network for their own use, presumably to instigate an attack on the Federation core worlds. That had been the last mission the _Devil’s Trap_ had been on. Where Lieutenant Commander Rixx had died. But they’d stopped the _Tal Shiar_.

“In a manner of speaking,” Admiral Zelle confessed.

The _Tal Shiar_ was the Romulan intelligence agency. A highly respected and feared force, they ‘protected’ the Empire from their interstellar enemies as well as from traitors within the Romulan population itself. The covert, often invisible presence of the _Tal Shiar_ kept the general populace of the Romulan Empire in a constant state of paranoia. Dissent and dissatisfaction with the status quo were met with severe punishment and dissidents often ‘disappeared’.

“In what ‘manner’ precisely?”

Admiral Zelle glanced at her and then turned from the window to face her fully. “I am sure you have heard the saying ‘Never trust a Romulan’. They will smile at your face and stick an honor blade in your heart. Their ruling passion, or _mnhei’sahe_ , is almost unfathomable to non-Romulans. It’s a mixture of honor, self-preservation and courtesy. And every Romulan interprets it in his or her own way. Sometimes a Romulan will but him or herself at a great disadvantage as a way of honoring a foe. On another day, that same Romulan may decide that the only thing that he or she can do is kill a loved one,’ she said.

Erin found the Admiral’s usage of gender specific pronouns instead of a simple ‘they or their’ odd but she’d never met a Deltan before. Perhaps that was normal for them though the data files she’d reviewed hadn’t mentioned it. And the Admiral’s dissertation on Romulan ‘passion’ told her nothing about what the mission was supposed to be. Erin didn’t see the point unless the Admiral was just showing off how knowledgeable she was of Romulan culture. Which was irritating in and of itself. Erin had expected to feel some sort of attraction to the Deltan the way the information she’d read said there would be even _with_ the pheromonal inhibitor shot. But all she felt was growing agitation.

Admiral Zelle paused a beat and looked Erin firmly in the eye. “But then you know that better than most don’t you Captain?” She gave Erin a wan smile of sympathy.

Erin’s back stiffened with renewed anger. “If you are referring to the fact that my mother was killed by Nero in an attempt to illicit patriotic anger in me, it’s unnecessary. I am well aware of how dangerous and untrustworthy the _Tal Shiar_ is. But Nero was not a part of the _Tal Shiar_. He was a lone mad man who slaughtered two thousand people aboard hospital ships sent to aid the Romulans after the Hobus Supernova destroyed Romulus. If the Romulan Senate had listened to him and Ambassador Spock when they tried to convince them to evacuate Romulus in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened. The fact that Nero happened to be Romulan is of little consequence. Madness and irrational stupidity know no race or species,” Erin said bitterly. 

“But you do hate him?” Admiral Zelle asked.

“I do,” Erin admitted. A muddle of emotions she didn’t want to recall welled up in her that she had to stomp on viciously. She did hate Nero. She hated him with the pure unadulterated coldness only a child robbed of their parent could muster. But she was beginning to greatly dislike the Admiral for trying to provoke her with it.

Her mother’s murder had no bearing on the current situation nor did Erin’s feelings about the man who had murdered her. She had long ago accepted it, and thanks to a wise father, learned the difference between hate for a single person and hate for that person’s entire species for that person’s actions. Otherwise, she’d never have allowed a Romulan to serve on her ship. “Not because he was a Romulan. Because he was a murderer. But that has nothing to do with why I was called here. Nero is dead. He and Ambassador Spock were killed when they were sucked into the black hole that swallowed the Hobus Supernova. So with all due respect, get to the point Admiral.”

Given the Admiral’s apparent dislike for Romulans Erin didn’t think the Deltan knew that a Romulan was serving on Erin’s ship. Apparently Admiral T’Nae had not felt the need to enlighten the Deltan. She would surely have tried a different tactic other than attempting to provoke racist anger if she had known. Erin didn’t intend to inform her either. She’d keep the little advantage that was Law to herself.

“Admiral T’Nae was right about you. You are one of the most impartial humans I have ever met,” Admiral Zelle said.

Erin scoffed. ‘Impartial’ was not a word that could be used to describe her in any language. “Hardly. I just know the difference between hate for a murderer and racism.”

The Admiral looked at her shrewdly again and then nodded. “Very well,” she said turning back toward the window. “The Vendor System is in a corner of Romulan space that the Romulans would prefer the Federation never knew about. It is distant from trade routes, has no populated worlds and no significant resources. Yet the Romulan fleet has had multiple ships in and out of the system on a weekly basis and our probes have detected a hidden base in the system. Obviously that base is very, very important to the Romulans.”

“And you want the _Devil’s Trap_ to find out why?” Erin surmised. It was suspicious that the Romulans would place a base in the middle of nowhere with remote access to resources unless there was something on it they didn’t want anyone to know about. But what, was the question. After the events of the transwarp network mining mission and Installation 18, Erin was under no illusions. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

The Admiral shook her bald head causing Erin’s brows to raise. What then were they here for if not to find out why the base was so important to the Romulans?

“We have learned that the Romulans have a cache of experimental subspace weaponry on a space station in the Vendor system.”

“How did you learn that?” Erin said deeply and truly alarmed. Now the Code 47 made sense. The Admiral skipped over how they’d learned that the Romulans were in possession of potentially incredibly dangerous and forbidden subspace weapons to tell her what she already knew.

“Every government in the Alpha and Beta quadrants has banned research in and use of subspace weaponry and for good reason. They are unpredictable and wild. A single use could create a tear in subspace that could disrupt ship traffic and communications in surrounding sectors.”

That was an understatement. A tear in subspace created by subspace weapons had the potential to destroy whole planets, even star systems if its expansion was not stopped. Attracted to the activity of warp cores like a magnet it would swallow the ship and continue to expand engulfing and destroying everything in its path until something stopped it. In addition the tear could disrupt the space-time continuum, sucking ships through into another continuum altogether or spitting things out of one. But the Khitomer Accords that banned their research and use had broken down years ago when the Klingon war had started. While technically illegal subspace weapon use was implemented on a ‘wink-and-nod’ basis by all factions.

Erin’s own ship was equipped with tricobalt torpedos. While nominally not considered a true subspace weapon banned under the Accords a tricobalt torpedo with a high enough yield was more than capable of causing a rupture in subspace. They were ‘legal’ but only just. Erin used them only when the situation was dire.

That in no way diminished the danger the Romulans having experimental , and therefore potentially even more dangerous, subspace weapons presented. But it was more than a little hypocritical.

“I am well acquainted with subspace weapons, Admiral. My ship is equipped with tricobalt torpedoes. Starfleet isn’t above using a little subspace weaponry themselves from time to time. But then you already knew that didn’t you?” Erin said fiercely enjoying turning the Admiral’s words back on her. She did not like this woman and the more the Admiral talked the more Erin’s inexplicable dread grew.

“Strictly speaking, tricobalt torpedos are not subspace weapons, Captain,” Admiral Zelle said giving Erin a pointed look.

“No, not ‘strictly speaking’,” Erin agreed but the Admiral had gotten her point loud and clear. “So the Romulans allegedly have subspace weapons, which you have still not told me how you discovered, on a space station in the Vendor system, which you have also failed to confirm is the same hidden station that your probes found. What now? Until the Romulans actually do something with them we can’t…”

“I will accompany you to the Vendor station. We will board it, find the weapons and destroy them. The Romulans’ experiments are dangerous. Admiral Janeway has a theory that Romulan subspace weapons contributed to the destruction of their homeworld.”

Erin gawked at the Admiral. She couldn’t be serious. Erin blinked several times trying figure out how to temper the barrage of words that wanted to fly out of her mouth. All she could manage to say was a flat, “What?” Erin scoffed in disbelief. “The Vendor System is _in_ Romulan Space.”  Surely Erin had misheard her. Surely, the Admiral would dissuade her of that misunderstanding now.

“Yes,” the Admiral said blandly.

“You can’t be suggesting that we invade Romulan space? I realize that the Treaty of Algeron is no longer in effect but to cross the Neutral Zone and board a Romulan station with malicious intent is an open act of _war_ ,” Erin blathered incredulous. Now all the upgrades to her ship made horrible sense as did the cargo bay packed with materials for ship repairs. She’d known the implications but to hear them was another matter entirely.

“The Romulans have already violated the Neutral Zone in their attempt to obtain control of the Federation’s transwarp network. You were picked for this mission because of your particular penchant for ‘cowboy diplomacy’ and willingness to ignore the rules to get a job done when it needs doing, Captain. That’s what this mission requires,” the Admiral said smoothly.

“Yes, but within reason. Open acts of war are not reasonable!” Erin spat horrified. “That was a small force meant to test if they could usurp the network in the first place, Admiral. Not an outright attack on Federation territory. We’re the ones who stopped them. Now, I agree that something must be done to prevent the Romulans from using these alleged subpace weapons--the _Tal Shiar_ certainly won’t hesitate to use them in more than a defensive capacity. And I’m not above a little cowboy diplomacy and rule flouting, as you put it, to do it. But I am not willing to commit an act of war! This is Starfleet. We’re a peace-keeping and exploration organization. We fight wars if we must _if_ someone brings them to us and _no_ other resolution can be made, to protect Federation citizens. We don’t start them! It’s a direct violation of the Prime Directive and that _is_ still in effect.”

Unriled the Admiral said, “I don’t need you to tell me what the Prime Directive says. The Starfleet Charter, Article 14, Section 31, states that extraordinary measures can be taken in times of extreme threat. Those extraordinary measures may include the suspension of the Prime Directive. If Admiral Janeway’s theory is right about Romulan subspace weapons contributing to the destruction of Romulus, do you really think a species capable of killing more than six billion of its own people would hesitate to use them against us? I’d say that was an extreme threat, wouldn’t you? ”

“Somehow I don’t think it extends to starting a war, Admiral. Tensions are already high between the Romulans and the Federation. Starfleet can’t afford another war, we haven’t got the man power or the resources. We’re already at war with the Klingons and the Borg. To do this would be like giving the Romulans the excuse they want for a war. We’ll have started it,” Erin said shaking her head again in disbelief. “And quoting that particular article is not the way to get me on your side, Admiral. I hate Section 31.”

“Not if we are covert about it, Captain. You are the best covert operations crew outside of Section 31 that Starfleet has are you not? I’m sure this will be a simple operation for you,” the Admiral said calmly. It was if she didn’t care one iota about anything Erin was saying.

It wasn’t that Erin didn’t agree that if the Romulans had subspace weapons that something should be done about it. She whole-heartedly did. But to do what the Admiral was suggesting was insane.

“If we’re caught we’ll all be killed,” Erin pointed out.

“Then I suggest we don’t get caught,” the Admiral said. She obviously wasn’t going to be swayed.

“I’m not comfortable with this. You’re basing all of this on a _theory_. And unless you have evidence to back it up it’s not even a theory , it’s a _hypothesis_. This isn’t the 21 st century. You can’t just invade Romulan territory willy nilly without concrete evidence because you _think_ the Romulans _might_ have subspace weapons. Even if Admiral Janeway is right, that’s not proof that the Romulans have a secret stash of subspace weapons hidden away for a rainy day. I want to talk to Admiral T’Nae.”

“Admiral T’Nae has remanded you to my command for this mission Captain Winchester. You do as I say. We will go to the Vendor System. We will board that station. And we will destroy those weapons. I wasn’t suggesting you help. It was an order,” Admiral Zelle said curtly.

Erin’s body became whipcord tight and she gritted her teeth in fury. There was nothing she could do but obey. Not to meant being bumped down to Ensign if she was lucky, it could even mean a court martial that could land her in a Federation Penal colony. Which would not help anyone at this juncture. Then the Admiral would have unbridled control of Erin’s crew and ship.  “Yes, sir,” she spat.

“A wise choice, Captain. We should get underway as soon as possible,” the Admiral said and stepped away from the window to head for the door and presumably the transporter room. Erin didn’t. She looked back over her shoulder at the Admiral.

“How much of this can I tell my crew?” Erin asked. The Admiral stopped and turned back.

“No more than absolutely necessary,” the Admiral said then she turned on her heel again and strode out the door, expecting Erin to follow. She didn’t, not right away.

Instead, she hit her combadge as soon as the doors were firmly shut behind the Admiral. “Winchester to _Devil’s Trap_.”

The very reason Erin had been picked for this mission, her ‘cowboy diplomacy’, willingness, to break the rules when she deemed it necessary and she and her crew’s aptitude for the clandestine  could work as much for as against the Admiral’s objective. Admiral Zelle hadn’t specifically said _who_ decided what was ‘absolutely necessary’ information…now had she?

Erin still felt none of the allure that was supposed to come from being around a Deltan. If Erin felt anything for the Admiral it was supreme dislike compounded with a strong desire to throttle her. So much for Deltan appeal. She was going to have to commend Cass for the effectiveness of his pheromonal inhibitor shot. But under Erin’s determination was that anger that broiled like a sickness and with it fear. _“Beware. Peril awaits you.”_

 

***

Commander Singer sat in the Captain’s chair and waited. Singer was not a patient man. He hated waiting. Especially when he didn’t know what he was waiting for…and it showed.

“You’re doing it again,” Sam complained from down at the Ops station. Dean looked down at his hand to find he was drumming nervously on the armrest for the hundredth time.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized. The Captain had been down on Starbase 39 for an hour and still no word. He wanted to know what was going on, why they’d been ordered here under a Code 47 and what they were supposed to be doing. It hardly seemed likely that their only purpose was to idly orbit the starbase while Erin did…whatever it was she was doing.

“You appear quite nervous Commander,” Lorian observed. With Erin on the starbase and Dean in command until she got back the Vulcan was effectively the First Officer. Dean cast him a vexed glance. “Might I suggest some deep breathing techniques to help alleviate the problem as drumming your fingers incessantly will not hasten the Captain’s return.”

“Thank you!” Sam proclaimed. “He’s driving the rest of us crazy.”

“Aren’t you nervous? I’ll pass on the deep breathing, thanks,” Dean said and shot a dirty look at the back of Sam’s head. Next to Erin, Lieutenant Commander Sam Campbell—bookish and academic minded as he was—was Dean’s best friend. A fact that Sam took liberal advantage of when he felt like it.

“No, Commander, I am not,” Lorian said.

“How can you not be? A Code 47? Aren’t you even a little worried why we’re here?” Dean said incredulous that Lorian should be less worried than he was.

“It would serve no purpose, Commander. Undoubtedly, the Captain will tell us what is going on at the first opportunity,” Lorian said very reasonably. It just irritated Dean further.

“Vulcans,” he muttered. How was it that this guy had managed to grab Erin attention? There was no fire to him. He was as cold as stone and his damned logic mattered more to him than anything else. But as much as Erin denied it and though the chance she would pursue it was virtually nonexistent, he knew her too well. Once Erin had looked at him the way she was now looking at Lorian.

A flare of jealousy flashed through Dean. The Vulcan had been able to reach Erin when he couldn’t. That bothered him more than anything else. He’d never _not_ been able to get through to her before but after this last mission she’d withdrawn so far that no one had been able to get through that thick shell of hers. And then along came Lorain.

Once Dean and Erin might have had something together. Once there might have been a chance. But he’d gone with his brain and not his heart and so had Erin. Now any chance they might have had at kindling a romance between them was forever gone. How could Erin be attracted to Dean--who was emotional and rebellious and was herself a passionate person with all the volatility that implied--and then be attracted to someone as cold as Lorian? It didn’t make sense.

Dean didn’t begrudge Erin anything that would make her happy. Romantic or platonic, their relationship was invaluable to him. She was his best friend and he wouldn’t endanger that for any reason. If Lorian was what she wanted, so be it. But how could she be attracted to _Lorian_? He was an outstanding officer by all accounts but he was not, in Dean’s opinion, romantic material. 

One consolation to it all was that Erin would never love anyone as much as she loved this ship and its crew as a whole. Anyone would take second place to that. No matter who they were.  It was one of the mitigating factors in why Erin and Dean had never pursued anything together.

“Was that meant to be a derogatory statement Commander?” Lorian asked those damned slanted eyebrows of his pulling together.

Dean avoided commenting on whether or not he’d been insulting the Commander by saying, “Erin is worried. She said so sitting in this very chair. If the Captain’s worried, you should be worried.”

“Why is that, Commander?”

“Because she’s never been wrong,” Dean said.

Lorian raised one brow high at that and then looked very thoughtful. Abruptly Dean’s plan to say something biting was dashed by the commlink bursting to life, making Janira almost jump out of her chair in surprise.

“Winchester to _Devil’s Trap_.”

Dean hit the control panel in the armrest of the chair to respond instantly. “ _Devil’s Trap_ here. How are things going?”

“It’s a regular Hotel California down here,” the Captain relayed and Dean went very still. Damn it all to hell.

“Understood,” Dean replied. Lorian was looking at him as if he might have taken leave of his senses but the rest of the crew had gone as still as Dean, exchanging looks of alarm.  

“Get Law off the bridge. Until further notice he doesn’t exist. I’m on my way back and I’m bringing company. Have Commander Lorian and Lieutenant Commander Talia meet us in Transporter Room 1.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said. The commlink went dead. Dean looked back over his shoulder to the Romulan at his station. “You heard the Captain. Disappear. Send Lieutenant Mills to replace you.”

The Romulan nodded once then left the bridge immediately and without question.

“’Hotel California’?” Lorian asked bewildered.

“It’s our code word for ‘Trouble incoming—act immediately,” Dean explained shortly. He proudly refrained from adding ‘I told you so.’

“Would it not be simpler to use some other more understandable phrase?” Lorian pondered still bewildered. Something passed over the Vulcan’s features as he said it that Dean couldn’t read. It wasn’t emotion it was something else. Understanding? Recognition?

“Not if you don’t want the trouble to know what you’re doing and you’re bringing it with you,” Dean said. “The Captain and I share a love of 20th century rock music. Look it up sometime and you’ll understand why we picked it.”

“I see. I will do that Commander. However, it would have been good if I had been aware of this code word before the need to use it arose,” Lorian said mildly.

“There hasn’t really been time,” Dean apologized then he turned to face the bridge crew. “Alright. You all know the drill. You heard the Captain. Troubles coming and until the Captain says so, you are to deny that Law exists.  Be on your toes people.”

There was a flurry of acknowledgement from all present. All except Lorian.

“Commander, Vulcans do not lie. If asked directly whether or not Lieutenant Law is on board I must…,” Lorian began to say. He didn’t look as if he were being defiant. For the first time his brow was furrowed slightly with conflict. As though he had no desire to reveal what he knew but would have to if it came to being asked directly. Not emotional mind you, just conflicted.

“What you must do is report to Transporter Room 1. If you can’t lie, figure out a way around it because if you let slip that Law is on this ship before the Captain says to, I will personally string you up by your pointy ears. Erin wouldn’t have warned us if it weren’t serious,” Dean said. “If you fail to keep Law’s presence a secret you may endanger the entire crew. Remember that.”

Lorain blinked and then the furrows in his forehead relaxed back into an expression of perfect nothing.  “Thank you Commander.” the Vulcan said then he rose and swiftly departed the bridge for the Transporter Room without another word, Talia following in his wake.

Dean watched him go slightly confused by the Vulcan’s behavior. What was he thanking him for? He’d just threatened him. Had Dean somehow just given Lorian the excuse he needed to justify lying?

“I’m never going to understand Vulcans,” Dean muttered. Then he drew in a long breath and muttered again. “What have we gotten into this time?” No one answered him. No one present knew and frankly, Dean wondered now if he wanted to ever find out.


	5. Chapter 5

Captain Winchester transported back aboard her ship in a foul mood it took a great deal of will power to control. Alongside her was Admiral Zelle. The Deltan had brought no luggage, no changes of clothing, only herself. She could obtain anything she wished from the ship’s replicators of course but most people brought their own clothes with them. Erin supposed it was a reflection of the Admiral’s desire for haste that she hadn’t.

Erin had managed to secretly warn her crew. They would be on alert without ever showing it. But it would do her little good to have warned them if she couldn’t then tell them what she was warning them for. So she set her mind to figuring out a way to confer the needed information in such a way that the telepathic and empathic Deltan would not know what was happening.

It was a horrible breach of protocol, ethics (even of code in some cases) to read another’s thoughts or emotions without permission or command but Erin didn’t think the Admiral would hesitate if it gave her the advantage. Erin didn’t trust her at all. However, Erin hadn’t undergone telepathic interrogation resistance training for nothing. The Deltan would find it harder to pry than she might hope and Erin had the bud of an idea.

As ordered, Commander Lorian—at ease with his hands folded at the small of his back—was there to greet them along with Lieutenant Commander Talia, who was operating the transporter console, antennae lifted high and straight, the tiny cups turned forward sharply with tension. One or the other of them had dismissed the transporter operator on duty.

“Captain,” Lorian said with a short nod by way of greeting. Then he looked at the Admiral and before Erin had the chance to introduce the woman said, “Greetings, Admiral Zelle. I am Commander Lorain, Captain Winchester’s Second Officer and Chief Science Officer. Welcome aboard.”

Erin blinked in stunned surprise at the Vulcan’s knowledge of their passenger. The Admiral instantly glared hotly at Erin, furious.

“How did you know that?” Erin spat at Lorian.

Before he could answer the Admiral seethed at Erin. “How dare you violate Code 47 protocol!”

“The Captain has in no way violated protocol Admiral I assure you,” Lorian said. The Admiral turned her head to glare at him and so did Erin. Lorian ignored her to address Erin instead. “It was quite simple really, Captain. When you ordered that all crewmembers be administered pheromonal inhibitor shots I deduced that we would potentially be taking on board either a Deltan delegate or a Deltan Starfleet officer. The shots are required protocol in such an instance but no other. Given our destination and its distance from Delta, I surmised that a delegation was unlikely. Nor were we likely to be diverting to Starbase 39 to take on a low ranking Deltan officer. It was then a simple matter of acquainting myself with all Deltan Starfleet personnel of high enough rank to warrant such a diverse. There is only one Deltan in Starfleet fitting that criteria.” He looked at the Admiral. “You, Admiral Zelle.”

Erin and the Admiral stood on the transporter pad for a moment absorbing that. The Admiral was obviously not happy about Lorian’s foreknowledge of her arrival but as he had come by it on his own, there was nothing she could say. Erin had something to say however.

“And when were you going to tell me that you knew this?”

“When it became relevant, Captain. As it just did.”

Erin blew a breath out through her nose and stepped off the transporter pad. To her mind the light in his eyes looked altogether too amused. “When this mission is over, you and I really need to have a talk about keeping secrets from your Captain.”

“It was not my intention to keep secrets from you, Captain. But given the nature of our mission I felt it best to keep my deductions to myself until that knowledge was no longer a secret. At which point it becomes moot,” Lorian said.

Erin supposed that was something like an apology and put that way she couldn’t very well be angry at him could she? Except for the part where it could have gotten her into trouble with the Admiral. Only the Vulcan had completely cleared her of any implication in it, which negated that too. What Erin didn’t understand was why he’d bother to voice the fact he’d known all along _now_.

She couldn’t ask him now but later he was going to explain his actions.

“I suppose there’s no arguing with logic is there?” Erin said.

“No, Captain,” Lorian agreed. His face was unreadable, she had no idea what he might be thinking.

“Well then,” Erin said trying to decide how to proceed. The Admiral stepped off the transporter pad still hotly glaring at Lorain who only lifted a brow in response and held her gaze unflinchingly.

“As you’ve already met Commander Lorian,” Erin said, redirecting the Admiral’s attention. “May I introduce Lieutenant Commander Anatalia zh’Idrani, our Head of Security.” Talia came out from behind the console and nodded in greeting before resuming ‘at ease’ position. “She will escort you where ever you may wish to go. I will leave it to her discretion whether or not she requires a full escort.”

Erin quite enjoyed the look of ire the Admiral turned on her then. Turnabout was fair play and Erin was perfectly within her rights as Captain. While the Admiral outranked her, they were on Erin’s turf now. Short of relieving her of command and taking over there was little the Admiral could do about anything Erin did as long as she stayed within the bounds of Starfleet protocol. A little thing called Captain’s Prerogative.

“I appreciate the gesture but I’m sure an escort isn’t necessary,” the Admiral insisted not bothering to greet the Andorian Security Officer.

“But I must insist, Admiral. Your safety aboard my ship is my responsibility. While the pheromonal inhibitor shots are effective, it is well known that their effectiveness is limited. I would hate for a simple function of physiology to endanger the success of our mission or you,” Erin said with great politeness.

The Admiral frowned and lifted her chin insolently but she relented. “Very well. Thank you for your concern.”

“You’re welcome Admiral,” Erin said and smiled with unveiled bitterness. “Now, if you will excuse me I will see that we get underway immediately. Talia will show you to your quarters.”

“Once we are underway, I would like a tour of the ship. To assess its capabilities first hand,” the Deltan Admiral said. It was said with great politeness but it was not a request.

“Why wait? Talia is well versed on the _Devil’s Trap’s_ systems. I’m sure she wouldn’t be averse to showing off a bit,” Erin said. That would keep the Admiral out of her hair…and head….for a while. She was all for the Admiral having a ‘tour’. Talia would tell her nothing that wasn’t already officially registered in the schematics.

Talia’s antennae waved gently. “I would be honored,” she said directing herself to the Admiral. The Deltan favored her with a bland glance as Erin started to exit the transporter room and motioned for Lorian to accompany her. He neatly fell into step behind her.

“I would prefer if you conducted the tour, Captain Winchester. After all, no one knows a ship better than its Captain.”

Erin stopped and turned in place. Talia shot the Admiral a hot glare, her antennae curling tightly for a moment with insult. Erin knew how to read her Chief of Security. She felt offended. Erin wondered exactly why the Admiral wanted Erin to do the tour. To probe her mind perhaps.

“I’m afraid I will have to decline. You’ve already made it clear how important this mission is. I wouldn’t dream of delaying us anymore than necessary,” Erin said then she promptly turned on her heel and started back out the door without giving the Deltan a chance to protest. “Enjoy your tour Admiral.”

As she did she felt something very quickly almost imperceptibly brush her sleeve. The tips of Lorian’s fingers. “Captain,” Lorian said. Erin stopped again becoming increasingly agitated that she couldn’t seem to get out of the room but that tentative touch had been Lorian. Vulcans did not touch others without need or permission. Nor did they invite such on their own person. It was a strong social taboo. “I am not needed on the bridge to depart the system and my knowledge of the _Devil’s Trap_ is complimentary to your own. Perhaps the Admiral would find it suitable if I accompanied her and Lieutenant Commander Talia in your place.”

Erin’s first instinct was to be suspicious. Why would Lorian desire to conduct the tour? Talia was more than capable. Was Dean’s original assessment on their new Chief Science Officer incorrect? Could he be the potential spy Erin feared? But something prodded her to trust him. His earlier deliberate outing of his knowledge of their mission and the privacy breech of touching her without being invited to suggested he was trying to communicate with her without anyone knowing. And he’d made a point to include Talia. If he was up to something untoward it wouldn’t be logical to engage in it with the Chief of Security hovering over his shoulder. Erin didn’t yet know Lorian well enough to know what it was he was trying to communicate exactly but she didn’t doubt that was what he was doing.

Erin considered it a moment. She glanced from him to the Admiral to Talia and back again. Lorian was a perfect display in placid blankness. But there was something in his bright blue eyes that seemed…pleading? Again, she felt the urge to trust him when her nature was to be suspicious of everything and everyone until she was certain they were not.

“Very well,” Erin relented.

“Thank you Captain,” Lorian said.

Talia’s antennae curled down further with displeasure at having to put up with the Vulcan. They might be getting along professionally but Andorians were a habitually paranoid species and the tensions between their races were long standing. But Talia gave no other form of protest and Erin left before somebody could waylay her again.

As she strode down the corridor for the turbolift she heard Lorian promptly herding the Admiral out behind her to begin the tour.

_“I’m trusting you, Mr. Lorian. Don’t make me regret it,”_ she thought to herself.

 

 

***

The welcome but brief solitude of the short turbo lift ride to the bridge gave Captain Winchester the time to think about what to do without fear of being ‘overheard’. She had a kernel of an idea but she couldn’t do anything until she’d explained what was going on to the others. To do that she needed a place, secluded and safe from prying minds or ears and with Admiral Zelle onboard there were precious few places. But she had a burgeoning idea for that as well.

So when she stepped out onto the bridge it was with purpose and direction. But despite having decided on a tentative course of action she still felt the cold dread and hot anger that she had been able to ignore while dealing with Admiral Zelle wrap itself around her bones again. _“Beware. Peril awaits you.”_

Erin shook it off as best she could as all eyes turned to look at her with expectant hope that she would have the answers they wanted. She didn’t and as yet couldn’t tell them. Not here. Not now.

Wordlessly, Commander Singer relinquished the Captain’s chair and moved to the one next to it at her right side. “Erin, is everything alright?” he asked.

“God save us from zealous admirals who think the means justify the end,” she answered him as if nothing at all were truly wrong. Dean’s brows quirked.

“Lieutenant Pril,” Erin called as she dropped down the low steps toward the command pit. “Break orbit and set direct course for the Neutral Zone. Warp 7.”

“Captain?” Pril said turning sharply around at his console his large golden lizard eyes blinking at her in disbelief.

Sam had swiveled around at Ops to gawk at her. “You can’t be serious?!”

“The Neutral Zone?” Dean said incredulously.

“You heard me right. Set course and engage immediately. You will receive further instructions when we get there,” Erin said retaking her place in the Captain’s chair.

“But…” Sam started to protest. Erin pinned him with a steady look.

“And I will not entertain any more questions at this time. Is that understood?”

Sam blinked twice and nodded tightly. “Yes, sir.” He turned back around at his console with a sullen and worried expression. All of the crew had worried, tense expressions. Everyone knew that heading for the Neutral Zone was serious business.

“Courssse laid in. Breaking orbit now,” Pril said. His voice sounded shakier than usual, his slurred syllabants more pronounced with nervousness.

Dean leaned in his chair toward her to whisper. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” Erin said not bothering to whisper in return. She wanted everyone to hear her. “But I was thinking, it’s been too long since we’ve indulged in game night don’t you think?” She looked at him for a long moment as he worked through incredulous outrage to understand her. They did have a game night occasionally but it had been a long time since they had and Dean knew she wasn’t much in the mood for frivolous activities at the moment.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally. “It has been too long.”

“So what do you say? Tonight?” Erin prodded.

“Sure,” Dean said easing into the nonchalance of the conversation. It wasn’t that Erin didn’t want the rest of the bridge crew to know what they were doing, it was that she didn’t want the Deltan to pick up a stray thought on approach to the bridge and catch them. “Just us?”

“No. I was thinking Talia could be game master,” Erin said and looked toward Ops again. “Sam, you should come too.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sam said in a much more compliant tone than he’d had a moment ago.

“We should invite Mr. Lorian as well. And our imaginary friend,” Erin added.

“Where _is_ Lorian?” Dean asked as if he’d just realized the Vulcan hadn’t returned to the bridge with her.

“With Talia, giving ‘trouble’ the grand tour,” Erin said

Dean nodded. “Where and when?”

“I’ll leave where up to you but someplace quiet. I’ll take care of notifying the game master. As for when, that’s entirely up to her.”

“Sounds like a date,” Dean said casually.

“Excellent,” Erin said and then raised her voice to carry again as Pril sent them to warp, shooting away from Starbase 39 at speed. “One piece of information I will give all of you. Admiral Zelle will be accompanying us on our little jaunt. The Admiral is a Deltan. Which is why I ordered pheromonal inhibitor shots for the entire crew. Deltans are also innate empathic telepaths. So let’s all lie back and _not_ think of England.”

Erin wished that she dared to invite all of them to ‘game night’ but as it stood she could only afford to risk telling those who were absolutely vital. She needed her First, Second and Third Officers in on this and she wanted Law’s counsel about Admiral Zelle’s allegations. If anyone knew if there was any truth to them, he would. To bring anyone else in yet was inviting trouble. A secret became harder to keep the more people who knew it.

The Admiral would have a hard time discerning what was going on even if she managed to pick one of their brains without them knowing it. None of them knew all of the plan and that was a deliberate step. The Deltan would have to pick through all their brains to get the information and even then, piece meal would likely make it so muddled she wouldn’t be able to get an accurate read.

The real danger of betrayal came from their emotions. No amount of apportioned information was going to be able to cover those if she honed in on them. They could be skewed into incomprehensibility if you forced yourself to feel another stronger emotion. It was much easier said than done.

Of all of them, Erin knew she was the biggest liability when it came to that. She could barely control the dread and the anger that stayed with her. For once in her life, Erin wished that she was a Vulcan. She envied Lorian for that ability just now. Fervently.

 

***

The rest of the Alpha shift had been steeped in near utter silence. The Admiral had insisted upon staying on the bridge after her tour, much to Erin’s displeasure. But she had caused no further problems…yet. Erin still could not shake the sense of angry foreboding. Faced with the inability to make it go away she had decided to use it to her advantage and stoked the anger, forcing it to be what she felt most intensely. If the Admiral attempted to read her emotions Erin hoped it was enough to prevent her from discerning anything else. Erin cared little if the Admiral knew Erin detested her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made it clear already.

If the Admiral had been able to read past her anger, Erin would not know. Only another telepath would be able to sense an attempted probing by another telepath and empathy required no probing at all, only the reception of the emotions most strongly emanated by the target. A non-telepath had very little by way of defenses against a telepath. Even in telepathic interrogation resistance training non-telepaths were limited to learning ways to befuddle their interrogator with false readings or nonsense rather than actually ‘hitting back’.  The Captain had proven to be particularly good at it for a human but it was still iffy. She could only hope she was doing enough.

Thus far Erin had not experienced a single note of attraction to the Deltan. She repelled her completely in fact and Erin had seen no one else react positively to the Admiral either. Everyone seemed to be well served by the pheromonal inhibitor shots. Erin really was going to commend Cass for his work.

Unwilling to retreat to her Ready Room while on the bridge, leaving the Admiral with her crew unattended, Erin had not been able to do the research she wanted on their destination. So she had been forced to wait until after her shift. The Admiral had seemed content enough then to depart the bridge and leave Beta Shift in peace.

Now Erin sat in her cabin, elbow propped on the arm of one of the couches, head in her hand with a padd on her lap displaying all known data on the Vendor System. Her eyelids had begun to droop and despite her best efforts to stay awake until Talia contacted her to initiate ‘game night’, Erin was losing the battle. What she had learned of the Vendor System was more than a little interesting and only made the Admiral’s insistence they go there even more insane than it had been to begin with. But if the Romulans were there, doing what the Admiral said they were doing, then what Erin had learned would be of little consequence.

The Captain’s eyes started to drift shut and her head to loll. Erin fought it, half out of fear that Cass’s theragen derivative treatments wouldn’t work, half out of need but she had lost the fight. Biology would not be denied. She started to slide into unconsciousness.

“Talia to the Captain.”

Erin jerked into alertness sending the padd skittering across the floor and hit her combadge.

“Captain here. Is this a secure channel?”

“No. I’m broadcasting ship wide,” came Talia’s sarcastic reply. “Of course it is.”

Erin rolled her eyes, then remembered that Talia couldn’t see her. “Status.”

“The Admiral has retired for the night.”

Erin looked at the chronometer on the wall panel above the replicator. It read 0000 hours. Midnight. How fitting, secret meetings during the ‘witching hour.’

“Acknowledged. Don’t let her out of your sight and notify me immediately if she wakes up,” Erin said into the air.

“Understood,” Talia replied.

Erin hit her combadge again. “Computer, open a secure channel to Commander Singer, authorization Winchester-Pi-Alpha.”

“Authorization accepted. Channel open.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” came the groggy sounding reply.

“Where?” Erin asked.

It took a beat for the Commander to answer, he must have been asleep. “Lieutenant Atwater’s quarters. He’s kindly offered us his hospitality.”

“Nice of him,” Erin said a bit sarcastically. It wasn’t as if the Lieutenant had had a choice in the matter but it would serve as a good secret rendezvous point and he was a loyal officer though he’d never be fit for command. No one would have a clue why the senior officers had decided to collect there and if they did, they would mistake it for the ‘game night’ that Erin had loudly announced on the bridge and assume they had decided to honor a junior officer by including him. Gossip on a starship travelled at transwarp. No doubt, it had already gotten around. “Let’s go. Notify the others, stagger departures at erratic intervals.”

“Got it. On my way.” Dean said and the comm. The channel closed. Erin left. Maybe now they could get somewhere with this mess. Erin hoped so because she very much desired the council of her senior staff right now. A Captain did not run a ship alone. Their senior staff didn’t just oversee departments, they were the Captain’s living, breathing second conscience. Most especially the First Officer but all of them were vital. A Captain without their conscience was ineffectual at best and supremely dangerous at worst.

 

***

 

Lieutenant Atwater’s quarters proved to be a tight fit for six people. Half the size of the senior officers’ quarters and much smaller than the Captain’s, he was at least afforded private quarters instead of sharing as Ensigns and enlisted crew did, though the room was no larger. Unlike the senior officer and Captain’s quarters, the junior officer’s quarters consisted of single room layout connected to a small bathroom. Living, office and bedroom furniture were pushed against the walls to have enough space for them and the room was cluttered with Atwater’s personal belongings. The Lieutenant was not a very neat person but nothing was dirty, just cluttered. Erin was seated on the Lieutenant’s bed—which was neatly made despite the clutter around them--beside Dean, who in turn was crammed next to Sam and Law. Lieutenant Atwater was perched on his small two-seater couch looking apprehensive, his thick brows knit together. Lorian hadn’t arrived yet.

“Where is he?” Dean complained. “He was the first one I called.”

As if summoned by Singer’s impatience the door to the Lieutenant’s quarters chimed.

“Come,” Atwater called, a quaver in his voice.

The junior officer was more than a little nervous to have the most senior staff officer congregating in his quarters with no explanation other than ‘I said so.’ Erin would have preferred not to have him present at all but to send him somewhere else in the middle of the night when he should be asleep would look suspicious. But Erin had little reservation about the arrangement. Dean hadn’t chosen him at random, Lieutenant Atwater was fiercely loyal and would do anything asked of him even if he would never be fit for command. He got too apprehensive when put in a position of authority.

The door slide open and Lorian stepped through looking perplexed and curious.

“You’re late,” Erin said with obvious irritation.

“It was unavoidable, Captain,” Lorian excused as the door slid shut again. He peered around the room and at the Lieutenant who favored him with a tight smile. Atwater was a good officer and a good man. Erin felt a bit sorry for putting him in this position but it couldn’t be helped.  “May I ask why we are here?”

Erin held her hand up for him to hold on a moment. She looked at the Lieutenant, having to bend forward to do see him around the group on the bed. “Logan,” she said, addressing him by his first name in a friendly manner. “Since I’m sure this is more than a little confusing. I appreciate your cooperation. You have no idea how important this is.”

The Lieutenant swallowed hard and nodded but he seemed to relax a bit. “You’re welcome, Captain.”

“Unfortunately, you still won’t have any idea how important this is,” Erin added. “I’m afraid you’ve just suffered a perplexing bout of amnesia with complete blindness and loss of hearing. All you will remember is we all had a nice game of poker—you won--and then you went to sleep. I want your word as a Starfleet officer that you will never tell anyone anything that you hear tonight. Not anyone Logan.”

The Lieutenant nodded again jerkily. He suddenly looked as if he might wish he hadn’t been so accommodating.  But then he sat a little straighter and took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Erin said, then she looked at each of the others one by one with steely resolve. “That goes for the rest of you as well. Under no circumstances will you tell anyone anything we say here.”

There was a round of somber acceptance of Erin’s terms.

“Thank you,” Erin said again and took a deep breath herself. “Have a seat Mr. Lorain” She motioned in the direction to the only other available place in the room besides on the couch next to Logan--the desk chair. The Vulcan complied and waited with unending patience. Erin was about to test that patience.

“Now, before we get started on why we’re here. Commander Lorian would you care to tell me why you deliberately revealed knowing who I was sent to meet in front of the Admiral and why you were so adamant about accompanying her on her tour of the ship?” Erin said very directly. The Vulcan didn’t even flinch at the possibly accusatory tone in her voice. Erin gave him the benefit of the doubt. “I got the feeling you were trying to convey something to me but I’m not sure what.”

“You did what?” Dean spat in instant outrage.

Erin put her hand on his shoulder to stay him. “Give him a chance to answer, Dean.”

Non-plussed Lorain did just that. “You assumed correctly, Captain. I did it for the same reason I was late arriving here. When I became aware that you felt that there was trouble and that you were ‘bringing it with you’ I could only assume that the trouble in question was Admiral Zelle herself.  Considering that we did not know the nature of the trouble the Admiral represented I felt it best to attempt to ascertain it. An unsettled or slumbering mind often inadvertently ‘leaks’ thoughts without intensive training to prevent it. Very few species undergo the kind of mental training Vulcans do and I hoped that the Admiral would prove the same. Revealing my foreknowledge of the Admiral’s identity served to unsettle her but without further time in her presence I would have no opportunity to attempt to ‘hear’ any stray thoughts that might be in evidence. I tried again on my way here by detouring past her quarters. You may confirm such with Commander Talia if you wish.”

“You _spied_ on the Admiral?” Sam said in complete surprise. “Not very Vulcan is it?”

“How so Commander Campbell? In what way is overhearing the unguarded thoughts of another telepath who has not bothered to shield sufficiently not Vulcan?” Lorian asked looking either offended or genuinely confused by Sam’s statement. That or he was being deliberately obtuse.  “Am I in some way responsible for other people’s thoughts simply because I happen to be Vulcan?”

“The part where you deliberately rattled the Admiral’s cage to do it,” Sam quipped sounding not at all disapproving.

“That is a matter of opinion, Mr. Campbell,” Lorian said in what almost sounded like faint indignation. “My actions were motivated purely by logic.”

“Clever,” Erin said making an impressed sound. She looked at him with a measure more of respect. She hadn’t seen that coming. “I wasn’t aware that you were that strong of a telepath.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lorian said succinctly. Their eyes met for a moment and Erin found herself caught by the way the different shades of blue in his irises deepened and lightened like a still pool. Lorian looked back for a moment and then blinked as if he’d lost his train of thought for a moment and Erin quickly looked away from him. Why did she keep getting distracted by her Chief Science Officer? It made no sense.

Dean snickered appreciatively breaking the odd moment. Apparently, unaware it had occurred at all. “Mr. Lorian, you might just fit in around here after all.”

“I hope so, Commander,” Lorian said in complete seriousness.

“Did you get anything?” Erin asked of him, pulling things back to what was important. She avoided looking directly at him again.

“Unfortunately I did not. The Admiral was quite well shielded.”

“Did she say or do anything …odd… while you were on the tour with her?” Erin asked.

Lorian shook his head. “No, Captain. But she was most interested in the ship’s defensive, tactical and weapons capabilities as well as our warp capabilities. She seemed quite pleased with what she saw but showed little interest in anything else.” His brows pinched slightly. “It was quite surprising. To my knowledge Deltans are instinctively repelled by violence or even the thought of committing it but the Admiral seemed to be terribly pleased with the prospect of the damage that the _Devil’s Trap_ could inflict should the need arise.”

“And that is exactly why we’re all here,” Erin said, her jaw clenching at Lorain’s words. That sense of foreboding inside her grew. Then Erin told them everything she knew. All of it.

When she was done they all wore the same gobsmacked expression she had in Admiral T’Nae’s office. All except Lorain whose stoicism Erin thought might hold up even if you hit him with a hammer.

“She’s crazy,” Dean said.

“I’ll second that,” Sam agreed incredulously.

“As do I,” Law said his eyebrows climbing steadily toward the ‘V’ of his forehead ridges in disbelief.

“May I point out that by telling us this you have not only disobeyed orders, you have also violated at least three Starfleet regulations,” Lorian said very seriously. “If your indiscretion were to be discovered the penalty could be serious.”

“I’m aware,” Erin said.

“That being said, now that I am aware of the situation,” Lorian added. “I must strongly object to our mission parameters. There is no Starfleet regulation that allows for a preemptive strike on an enemy especially one from which we have no actual evidence of wrong doing.  It goes against every ideal that Starfleet has vowed to uphold. It directly violates the Prime Directive. To blatantly violate the Neutral Zone and invade Romulan space is an act of war and is by its very definition immoral.” There was definitely an appalled note to his voice now. “In addition, the Vendor system has been under a Code 7-10 quarantine for one hundred and forty two years.”

“Don’t you think I know that Mr. Lorian? And in case you weren’t listening I don’t think Admiral Zelle is very concerned about Starfleet regulations unless it benefits her. She’s invoking Article 14. That’s why I convened a secret meeting in the middle of the night, in a junior officer’s quarters in the first place,” Erin said heatedly. She shook her head. “It’s not that I disagree with the Admiral’s goal. If the Romulans do have some sort of subspace weapon the way she described, something must be done about it. It’s her methods I’m worried about. And her ethics.”

“I hardly think that unsubstantiated allegations of unevidenced subspace weapons can be considered a ‘dire threat’ to the Federation,” Lorian said dryly.

“I agree Mr. Lorian but…what if they do?” Erin began to say. “’Just following orders’ is no excuse but…what if they do? They’ve already tested the waters for an attack on the Federation core worlds when they tried to usurp our transwarp network.”

“You can’t be seriously considering doing it?” Sam gasped.

“May I remind you that this ship was designed for covert operations? It’s half our purpose, Sam,” Erin said. “This wouldn’t be the first time Starfleet has ordered us to do something that was less than strictly ‘lawful’.”

“Okay. Granted. But they’ve never asked us to do something morally wrong,” Sam insisted.

“There’s _no_ evidence?” Dean asked a bit more apt to reason everything out strategically rather than simply refute the idea of going through with it out of hand.

“None that she’s given me. This whole thing is based off intel she won’t tell how she obtained and Admiral Janeway’s supposed ‘theory’ that Romulan subspace weapons may be behind the destruction of Romulus.”

“If we had evidence, even the smallest bit, we might be able to justify what the Admiral is wanting us to do. If we go in undercover we could pull it off without anyone being the wiser that Starfleet was involved,” Dean reasoned.

This was why he was her first officer. Erin was more apt to be very moral about her decisions. Dean served as the devil’s advocate to her morality, offering the potential to accomplish a seemingly immoral task in a moral manner while still being sneaky about it. Erin was perfectly capable of being conniving and sneaky but she questioned her motives too often. Dean’s job was to keep her from moralizing herself into a grave.  He was the ‘id’ to Erin’s ‘ego’.  Rixx, before her death, had been the ‘superego’, a role that now fell to Lorian. Sam was the one whose job it was to make the three of them revaluate their points of view a second time, just to be safe and often served as the primary trio’s moderator.  That he was stubborn as a mule was all to his good.

Erin nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too but without that evidence…the Federation can’t handle another war. We’re stretched too thin as it is. We’d be destroyed. Not to mention the utter immorality of  it.”

“Did it ever occur to you to clear this with Admiral T’Nae?” Sam demanded to know.

“Of course it did,” Erin said sharply. “She was embroiled in a trade negotiation when I was there but I did talk to her before that. She’s the one who sent the Code 47. And I can without a doubt confirm that she has put us directly under Admiral Zelle’s authority for the duration of this mission. She told me herself during that conversation.”

“We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” Dean said. “We can either do nothing and risk the Romulans having these supposed weapons. In which case, they start the war. Or we can do this, hope we’re right, and pray we don’t start one.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. We could wait until we had further evidence to back up Zelle’s claims if she weren’t pushing this to be done now. But…,” Erin’s voice trailed off. “There has to be a better way. We don’t know enough.” She looked at Law who had been quietly listening with a fierce look of concentration on his face. “What do you know about the Vendor System?”

The Romulan shrugged slightly. “Probably the same thing you do. I have long been exiled from the Empire but it is a binary system with three planets, only one of which is inhabited. Vendor II. However, as Commander Lorian said, the system has been quarantined from both contact with the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Though that Empire is no more and all treaties signed by them null and void I can see no reason for them to rescinded the proscribed contact. The Vendorians are a deceptive shape changing species with absolutely no morals or honor,” Law said looking as at a loss as the rest of them.

Erin nodded tightly. She’d feared as much. It seemed that the Romulan knew nothing more than they did and without something to give any credence to this mission Erin could not in good conscience agree with it. Not only was it morally objectionable in the extreme, it could be considered illegal by Starfleet laws. There was no mandate that forced an officer to obey an order that directly violated the Prime Directive. You could not claim you were ‘just following orders’ in Starfleet. It expected more than mindless obedience of its members.

On the other hand, to refuse to comply with the Admiral’s orders when she had invoked Article 14 of the Starfleet Charter could be much worse. Since it allowed for the suspension of the Prime Directive in times of dire threat to the Federation, to willfully refuse to follow an order under such conditions was treason and mutiny. A court martial would be guaranteed and sentencing to a penal colony certain. To knowingly expose the Federation to such a threat just because Erin had reservations was unthinkable.

That she was restricted from contacting Starfleet Command for confirmation of the Admiral’s authority or Admiral T’Nae due to the mission being initiated under Code 47 only made matters worse. Right now, Erin wished she was dealing with Section 31 again. At least Franklin Drake, smug snake that he was, wasn’t completely unreasonable even if he was a lying, cheating, conniving, bastard Erin fully intended to punch in the face the first time she saw him. 

Erin sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was beginning to develop a headache from all this. She was faced with impossible choices. Erin had never felt the chains of command so much as she did now.

“But,” Law added to his previous statement. “You may not know that the Romulans violated their own quarantine on multiple occasions in an attempt to offer the Vendorians an alliance in trade for serving as spies for the Empire. The Vendorians never accepted. They saw no reason to accept such an alliance since the Romulans could offer them nothing in return that they wanted. Very rarely Vendorian outcasts would accept such jobs but it was exceedingly rare since they are not a traditionally space-faring culture. If the Admiral’s information is true, it is possible that the Vendorians have decided to reconsider the Romulans’ offer of an alliance. That could account for the increased traffic.”

“Great. Just what we need. More shapeshifters,” Sam groused sullenly.

Erin heartily agreed with him. Wasn’t it enough that the Dominion was recouping from the Dominion War, looked to be preparing for another stab at the Federation and with it came the Changelings that led the Dominion? Who were capable of assuming the form of anything from a person to a flame. The one caveat was that in humanoid form Changelings were always slightly flawed. Some characteristic would be off enough that suspicion might arise and they had to resume their natural liquid form periodically to rejuvenate themselves.

The Vendorians on the other hand could take the form of anything biological or otherwise with perfect visual accuracy and they could hold the form indefinitely. However, upon scanning they exhibited readings that did not match exactly with the form of their choosing. The Romulans wanted revenge for the destruction of Romulus. If they had convinced the Vendorians to ally with them and be used as spies within the Federation it portended bad things.

Most dangerous of all, the Undine (or Species 8472 as the Borg called them) were completely and utterly undetectable. A xenophobic, paranoid race convinced every species but themselves meant to destroy them—and so they must destroy them first--they flawlessly assumed the shape of any biological being as easily as breathing, were impervious to scans and mimicked their chosen form so perfectly that nothing untoward could be found. A very few suffered from ‘reversion’, changing back to their natural form against their will but the Undine had long ago removed such individuals from service. They were nearly indestructible, impervious to disease, sickness or injury. Even the Borg couldn’t assimilate them. The Undine were the most formidable enemy the galaxy had ever seen.

Modified Borg nanoprobes designed to work as a biomolecular weapon could be utilized against them but replicating them was a labor-intensive process that negated their use in all but the most extreme circumstances. Currently they were only useful in curing the infection caused by so much as a scratch from an Undine’s claws. A truly horrible way to die, you were eaten from the inside out by the creature’s transferred cells.

Unbeknownst to anyone but Captain Winchester, Starfleet Command, the crew of the _USS Enterprise-F_ and the associated scientists involved, biomolecular torpedoes were being developed and had proven very efficient but they had only just passed the first stage of testing. It had been Erin, because of her previous experience with the Undine, who had been brought in to advise on the torpedoes. During the testing at Utopia Planetia on derelict Undine bio-ships a wave of Undine attackers had invaded.

Erin, under command of the _Enterprise_ at the time, had been able to destroy them but the fact that the Undine had known at all was incredibly disturbing. The entire operation was so heavily classified that a single word uttered about it was a one-way ticket to a penal colony. The only way they could have known was if they’d found out some way. Undine infiltration had happened before. Erin had seen it and stopped it first hand, but Starfleet Command insisted it had been contained. Captain Shon, the rightful captain of the _Enterprise_ , had speculated that the timing was a coincidence but Erin didn’t believe in coincidence.

The reasoning behind the ‘coincidence theory’ was that because of the bioelectric field that the Undine generated, which made them impervious to detection by scan, they were incapable of using transporter technology. A sign of a possible Undine spy was if a person previously not averse to getting around via transporter started insisting upon the use of shuttlecraft instead. It was by no means a certain way to detect them but it was all the Federation had. To Erin’s knowledge since the exposure and defeat of the Undine impersonating Ambassador Sokketh of Vulcan, no others had been found or suspected but Erin seriously contested Captain Shon’s ‘coincidence theory’. Anything could be gotten around with enough time. What was to say that the Undine had not found a way to resolve the problems with using transporter technology?

If they had, there was no way to tell who was themselves and who was Undine. It was a chilling thought and enough to make anyone with any sense utterly paranoid. It was just such paranoia that had led to the Klingon War that now raged. Already riled and demanding justice against the Federation and the Romulans for the destruction of a Klingon Fleet by Nero during the same engagement that had killed Erin’s mother, the Klingon Chancellor J’mpok became so convinced that both the Federation and the Romulan Empire were crawling with Undine infiltrators bent on the Klingon’s demise that he’d goaded the High Council into declaring war to eradicate the problem when attempts to wrest aid from the Federation were denied.

The Federation justifiably denied J’mpok’s accusations of responsibility in Nero’s strike on the Klingon fleet. But when the Chancellor had proved that the Undine had infiltrated the Klingon Empire, suggested that the same was happening in uncounted number to the Federation and asked for help the Federation had flat refused.

Outraged by the Federation’s unwillingness to assist the Klingons with a proven threat even though they were all but bound to do so by the Khitomer Accords, moral responsibility, and the serious threat to their own people, Ambassador Worf had resigned his commission with Starfleet and returned to the Klingon Empire. He had said that he could not serve under a regime that was willing to dishonorably endanger its own people. He had continued to try to mediate tensions between the Empire and the Federation but to no avail. The war had raged ever since with no end in sight. All attempts at peaceful resolution were ignored.

The Federation wasn’t just losing starships and officers. It was losing its leaders.

Ambassador Spock had been killed when he’d been sucked into a black hole along with Nero. Ambassador Worf had resigned because he couldn’t tolerate the Federation’s stubborn insistence that nothing was wrong and their refusal to become involved in ‘Klingon internal affairs’ and using the Prime Directive to do so. Ambassador Picard had long since retired to France on Earth and was no longer involved in the decisions of the Federation. The technologically resurrected Captain Data, former captain of the last _Enterprise_ , was who knew where. Erin didn’t know what had happened to him once the _Enterprise-E_ had been decommissioned. Admirals Kirk, McCoy and Scott had died long before Erin had even been born. Admiral Riker still headed up Starbase 247 and was ostensibly captain of the _USS Titan_ but Erin hadn’t heard of him being actively involved in politics in years.

To say that the Federation was in chaos was an understatement.

Then there was the war raging with the Borg in tandem with the war with the Klingons. It was too much to even think about at the moment. To venture the idea of doing something that would start a war with the Romulans, who were looking for any excuse to seek their revenge, was so stupid as to be incomprehensible. And yet.

All this Erin thought in the time it took for Law to stop speaking and Lorian to start. By punching yet more holes in the argument.

“But it would not explain the alleged subspace weapons. For what purpose would the Romulans engage the Vendorians in an alliance in regard to them? Vendorian technology is not sufficiently advanced to be of any use to the Romulans.”

“We’re talking ourselves in circles and getting nowhere,  
 Dean pointed out.

“Very true Commander Lorian,” Law said. “Which accentuates the problem we are having. The fact is we just don’t know. It seems to me that the problem before us is not whether or not to act but why and how. Admiral Zelle’s statement that there is nothing of any use to anyone in the Vendor System is correct. So unless the Romulans are allying with the Vendorians for some as yet unknown purpose it seems pointless for them to be there. Unless the Admiral is correct about the subspace weapons but as you have said, without evidence we are not justified to take action. So what you need is evidence.”

“Which we don’t have,” Sam said irritably.

“Are you suggesting we manufacture evidence to justify this mission?” Erin asked alarmed.

“No Captain. I am suggesting you get it. As Commander Singer has pointed out if we were to conduct this mission covertly, as only the _Devil’s Trap_ can, then any involvement by Starfleet need never be known. But rather than doing so to destroy subspace weapons you have no evidence exist…perhaps instead it should be done to determine if there is evidence in the first place. At that point you would be justified and could destroy the weapons…if they exist. If they do not, could you not then arrest the Admiral for violation of Starfleet codes and ethics as an enemy of the Federation for attempting to instigate a war?” Law said.

“I wouldn’t say it’s that simple Law but in a nut shell, yes,” Sam said though he didn’t sound happy to admit it.

Sam was right about it not being that simple. They had no idea where the Admiral had gotten her supposed evidence. She could not be held as an enemy of the Federation or for willfully instigating a war if the intel she had been given was bad but she could be held for violation of numerous Starfleet codes and ethics. Especially for doing so under Article 14 and using Code 47.  Law’s idea had merit and thus far seemed like the only possible thing they could do.

“So you’re suggesting that we qualify doing the same thing we first suggested by changing our intent?” Erin summed up.

“Yes. ‘In a nutshell’,” Law said.

Dean clapped Law on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I like you.”

Law smiled. “When in doubt, think like a Romulan. I have had much experience outwitting the _Tal Shiar_. It’s why I’m still alive. No one will ever reach the level of corruption that they can. And if the Admiral is correct there is no doubt they are involved. Doubtlessly they are involved no matter what’s going on in the Vendor System.”

“As much as I dislike it, Lieutenant Law’s suggestion may be our only viable, logical and morally acceptable answer. It is sound if distasteful,” Lorian agreed.

“I don’t like it,” Sam said still stubborn to the end.

“No one likes it Sam,” Erin said.

“It’s your decision Captain,” Dean said solemnly, formally. And that was the crux of it all wasn’t it? They could advise all they liked but in the end the ultimate decision fell on Erin’s shoulders. They were all looking at her expectantly. What would their Captain choose? Talk about hard decisions.

Erin leaned forward on her knees curling the fingers of one hand against her lips and thought hard for a while. No one spoke a word. They gave her silence she required as she weighted her choices.

After what seemed like forever, Erin finally spoke again. Her choice made. She was definitely getting a headache from all this. Erin fully believed that the Romulans were up to _something_ and that couldn’t be ignored.  “I can’t accept that we just do this, in this manner, without trying to stop it first. So, this is what we are going to do. If it comes down to it, we’ll go with Law’s suggestion. But before that, when we stop at the border of the Neutral Zone, I’ll spring everything we know, such as it is, on the Admiral. Maybe if I do it at the last moment in front of everyone it’ll startle her enough to make her see reason. It’s a desperate thing to do but I don’t see much choice.”

“A worthwhile course of action Captain, but in doing so you will have revealed that you have violated Code 47. You will be court-martialed. Possibly imprisoned,” Lorain pointed out. He was frowning.

Erin looked at him unblinkingly. “I know that. But I won’t have any of you go down with me. My actions are mine and mine alone.”

A captain’s duty was to her ship and her crew but the ultimate duty any Starfleet Officer bore was to uphold the Prime Directive at any cost, up to and including the loss of ship, captain and crew if necessary. With Article 14 invoked the Prime Directive could be rescinded but the end result was the same. Any and all measures could be taken to ensure the success of the mission. Erin took her oaths very seriously. She was ultimately responsible for all four hundred lives on this ship.

She would not implicate them in her choices and risk them all for nothing. If in the end the choice of what to do was hers, it was also her duty to take full responsibility for that choice. She knew what she was doing would end her career in Starfleet. She knew it would land her in a penal colony but it didn’t matter. Her ship and her crew mattered. The Federation citizens that numbered beyond counting mattered. Avoiding starting a war mattered.

In the end the Captain stood alone.

Erin’s response was met with complete quiet. Lorian gave her a very quick and somber nod. Sam looked like someone had just hit him with a shovel. Law had the appearance of a man who was deeply pleased but at the same time so disturbed he couldn’t find a word for it and Dean looked completely horrified. Poor Lieutenant Atwater, who had been so quiet that Erin had all but forgotten he was still there, appeared to be terrified.

“Captain…” Dean started to protest. Erin had known he would and she would hear none of it.

“I appreciate everyone’s advice. It has been very helpful but I’ve made my decision,” Erin said in the authoritative voice she rarely used with her senior staff. It brooked no argument what so ever. She looked at her Chief Science Officer. “Mr. Lorian, I want you to continue attempting to pick up anything the Admiral might let slip. If you do, notify me immediately.”

“Of course, Captain,” Lorian said. His voice was oddly soft and restrained. He was always soft spoken but there was a touch of something Erin couldn’t place in it just now.  She looked at the rest of them. “As for the rest of you, remember that this meeting never happened. You have heard nothing, seen nothing and know nothing. Dismissed.”  She looked at Lieutenant Atwater. “Thank you again for accommodating us. I know it was an imposition.”

The Lieutenant nodded, not even able to bring himself to speak.

The group rose to their feet and filtered out over the course of the next several minutes. Leaving in the same order in which they had come but spacing it so they would not give themselves away. Erin was the last to go. As she stepped toward the door, Lieutenant Atwater finally found his voice, small though it was.

“Captain?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Erin asked stopping just shy of the door. She could see an old fashioned clock sitting on the Lieutenant’s end table. The meeting had lasted only an hour. Such a little span of time for such a big decision.

“I know I shouldn’t even be mentioning this but…do you really think that it will come to that? To you confronting the Admiral? To war?” He was visibly shaken by the prospect.

“I won’t lie to you Lieutenant. It is a possibility. But I will do everything in my power to stop it,” Erin said. 

“Would you really do what you said? Sacrifice your entire career—got to jail--to protect us from being implicated? To stop all this?” he said so softly he could barely be heard.

“Yes, Lieutenant. You and the others are my crew. I would trade my life for any one of yours without blinking if I thought it would make a difference,” Erin answered honestly. The Lieutenant looked at her then, for a very long moment. Erin turned to go, stepping through the door. “Good night, Lieutenant.”

Behind her, she heard the junior officer say. “Good night, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	6. Chapter 6

Erin entered the turbo lift with the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. She didn’t regret her decision nor did she like it. And her damn head hurt. She prayed she was doing the right thing.  She felt like she was being choked by that sense of foreboding and anger she couldn’t get rid of. It gnawed at her like a disease. Erin told the computer where to take her when Dean, who had to have been lying in wait, slipped in beside her before the doors could close.

He hit the manual stop button before the turbo lift could get more than half a deck up. Erin sighed heavily and shut her eyes. She should have known he wouldn’t let this go.

“Permission to speak freely?” he asked.

“If I said ‘no’ would it matter?” Erin muttered knowing full well…it wouldn’t. They’d never held that tight formality between them as some Captains and First Officers did. Only in public did they exhibit it. Dean would say, what Dean would say privately.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked concerned.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired,” Erin said and tried to reach past him to reengage the turbo lift.

Dean put his arm out blocking her and shook his head his expression grim. “Don’t give me that, Erin. You just made a choice to commit career suicide and guaranteed incarceration. You’re not ‘fine’.”

Erin set her jaw at him. “I’m fine,” she reiterated and reached for the manual stop again.

He caught her wrist to stop her. “No, you aren’t. And you shouldn’t have to be.”

Erin snatched her wrist back, that barely repressed anger rising to the surface instantly. Dean let her without resistance but he looked at her mournfully. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Pardon me?” Erin said furious.

“Damn it Erin just listen to me. I’m your First Officer and your best friend,” Dean insisted.

“Is it my decision or not?” Erin snapped at him. 

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Yes of course it is!” He drew in a deep breath. “Look, I’m not saying it’s right or it’s wrong. But it’s my job aboard this ship as your First Officer and your friend to advise you in making the wisest decisions possible.”

“Which you did. My decision stands,” Erin fumed.

Dean ignored her and raised his voice an octave to talk over her. “Something I firmly believe you are incapable of doing at this moment.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Erin said unconsciously raising her voice to match his own.

Dean opened his mouth to yell at her and then stopped. “No,” he admitted sharply.

Erin reached over; hit the manual stop with a hard punch of her finger and the turbo lift resumed. She was very much done with this conversation. Dean hit it again. The turbo lift halted, hard. “But,” he continued on. Erin stomped on him before he could finish.

“Are you going to declare me unfit for duty?”

“No!” Dean said.

“Then we’re done here,” Erin said.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing!” Dean protested fiercely, angrily.

“You’re right! I have no idea what I’m supposed to do,” Erin admitted violently. “I only know what I can do!” Erin stopped and shook her head. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. So unless you have a better idea then my decision stands. I won’t take the rest of this ship down with me and I won’t start a war we can’t fight without a reason.”

“Don’t do this. I’m begging you,” Dean pleaded.

“You’re letting personal feelings affect you Dean,” Erin said.

“And you aren’t?” Dean said incredulously. “You can’t for one second expect me to believe that. You’re already stressed to the limit and now you’re responsible for making a decision that could start a war.”

“Dean,” Erin intoned warningly. She honestly didn’t know if she were warning him to shut up or that if he persisted she was going to hit him. Or because she already knew what he was going to say.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Dean said.  “You’re not superhuman. It’s not a sin to need someone.” Dean gritted his teeth hard. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re the Captain. You never lean on anyone. You never ask for help. You never admit you’re scared. You never admit that you need _anything_.”

“I don’t have a choice, Dean!” Erin shouted at him.

His expression changed, softened, became terribly sad. “I know!”

He stopped as if he hadn’t known he was going to say that himself. He reached toward her and Erin started to step backward but found she had nowhere to go but the turbo lift wall. He put his hands on her shoulders and then pulled her into his arms in a hug, his chin tucked over her hair and Erin found herself letting him. Though rare, it wasn’t the first time he’d hugged her but it felt different this time. More intimate and personal.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….” He murmured. “Tell me what you need. Tell me.” He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

Erin swallowed hard and reached past him to the manual stop. She touched it. The turbolift resumed. Then she gently put her hands over his and pulled them away. “I need everyone to continue behaving admirably.”

Dean shut his eyes and sighed. “Okay,” he murmured, nodding. “Okay.”

The turbo lift came to a stop and the door whooshed open. Erin stepped out quickly. Before either of them could do something they’d both regret. Dean stayed behind looking as downfallen and dismal as Erin felt.

 

***

Erin went to bed with a heavy heart and a cluttered mind. She’d resigned herself to what she was going to do and it was surprisingly easy to do so. Or maybe it was only that she didn’t have time to dwell on her own feelings about it when she had to plan. But that easy acceptance did nothing for the sense of angry fear that sat like a lump in her chest. _“Beware. Peril awaits you.”_

Erin hadn’t been lying when she’d said she was tired. But she’d sleep when she was dead. Right now, she had to think. She couldn’t think about what had just happened in the turbolift, the weird way she kept getting distracted by Lorian or the fear and anger that coursed through her like venom. She was the captain of this ship and she’d be damned if it was going down without a fight.

She lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind cycled through what to do like a ancient sorting machine. Consider an option, weight it, put it in a bin.  Repeat. She needed to have an immediate method of employing Dean and Law’s suggested course of action in the event Erin couldn’t reason with the Admiral. Their idea had merit but it was worthless if there was no way to make it work.

When they got to the Neutral Zone border Erin would call a full stop. That would give her the chance to run full sensor sweeps of the surrounding area to check for nearby Romulan vessels. It would also give her the chance to try to talk sense into Admiral Zelle. If Erin failed to, she’d go through with what she was starting to think of as Plan B.

Plan A: Make Admiral Zelle see reason.

Plan B: Do the damn mission anyway with morally superior ulterior motives and go from there.

Plan C: Expect the unexpected.

Erin knew what she would do if Plan A failed but she went over it again in her head. She would take them from the Neutral Zone Border using the Quantum Slipstream drive to avoid any Romulan ships in the area and….and…. but Erin didn’t know what came after ‘and’ as tiredness turned to exhaustion and sleep dragged her down.

 She was in a corridor aboard a starship. The light panels were flashing bright red and the klaxon wailed Red Alert so loudly her ears were ringing. That was alarming enough but something was drastically wrong. Her perspective wasn’t right—it was as if she’d shrunk a foot and a half in height and the corridor wasn’t familiar.  People were running up and down the corridor frantically, the usually predominately red and gold division colors overwhelmed by science blue and medical teal.

She understood what she was seeing with an adult’s comprehension but Erin was as frightened as a small child. Why was she so frightened? Why did it feel like—the people rushing by as if she weren’t there not withstanding—someone was here with her that she couldn’t see? Not like before, not in the echoing darkness. That had been only another presence but this was malevolent. She knew without knowing why that whatever it was it would hurt her if it got the chance.

Erin wanted to cry. But she never cried. Not since she was a little girl. She was so scared. 

“What’s going on?” she asked of someone rushing by. She tried to grab at their sleeve but they kept going as if they hadn’t heard her. They didn’t even look at her as she spoke to them. Erin grew more frightened. This was no place she knew, no ship she’d ever been on.

“What’s going on?” she demanded again of anyone who would answer but no one did. Her voice sounded very high and small to her. Someone plowed into her from behind, sending Erin toppling forward face first onto the corridor floor. The person stepped over her and kept going as if they were heedless.

Erin went to push herself up off the floor and abruptly realized why her perspective was so skewed before, why her voice sounded high and small. She looked at her hands. They were tiny hands, a child’s hands. She was a little girl again. Terror wracked her. She wanted to go home. She wanted her parents.

“Daddy!” Erin called out into the chaos of officers. She pulled herself to her feet shaking with fear. Why was she so scared? “Mommy!”

“Doctor Winchester!” someone called sharply down the corridor and one person stopped. Erin’s heart stopped. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real.

“Gillian!” came the shout again.

The person turned back and there was no doubt of who it was. Erin hadn’t seen her face in twenty years, not in real life, not like this but it was burned into her memory like a brand. Incredibly beautiful with high cheekbones and full smiling lips that were now set in a fierce expression of determination. Almond shaped cornflower blue eyes. Golden hair that fell loose to her shoulders. The familiar teal smock she always wore over her uniform. 

Erin’s mother. Doctor Gillian Winchester. 

Just like that, Erin knew where she was. She knew when she was. On board the _USS Galen_ , stardate 6439.0. The day Nero’s ship had attacked the _USS Galen_ and the two ships accompanying it into Romulan space to assist the survivors of the Hobus Supernova. The day her mother had died.

“Mommy!” Erin cried and ran toward her, pushing heedless people out of her way as best she could, falling and scrambling back up when she couldn’t.  

Had the _Devil’s Trap_ gone through a temporal rift of some kind? This felt too real to be a dream. If they’d been flung back in time how’d she get onboard the ship? Erin hadn’t been onboard the _USS Galen_. She’d been at home, in her bed, asleep when her mother had been murdered by the mad Romulan. Why was she seven years old again?

Her mother waited for the person who had called to her to catch up. It was another woman, another doctor. “We’ve found survivors. I need help in sickbay,” the woman said. She didn’t wait for Erin’s mother to respond she took it for granted that Doctor Winchester would follow and she did. She ran after the other woman as quickly as she could navigate between crewmen.

“No!” Erin yelled. She ran faster. Not sickbay. They had to get off the ship, retreat. Not sickbay. “Mommy!”

But Erin couldn’t, she knew she couldn’t. Even if this were somehow real Erin couldn’t interfere. The Temporal Prime Directive forbade it. To change the time line might completely alter anything that came after. There was no way to tell what the ramifications might be. Billions might die if she did. But Erin was just a little seven year old girl who knew her mother was about to die. She didn’t care about silly Starfleet rules. She just couldn’t watch her mother die. Couldn’t lose her a second time.

Terror stricken Erin followed them and plunged through the door they passed through into sickbay. She ignored the obsolete medical equipment and twenty year old interior. She ignored everyone but her mother. “It’s a trap!” No one seemed to be able to hear her or see her.

Absurdly there was a window in sickbay that looked out on the space beyond. There wasn’t a window in sickbay onboard an _Olympic_ -class ship. But the view out of it was definite. Nero’s ship sat there. Then it hadn’t been the deadly looking mass of sharp curved blades and whipping tentacles. It hadn’t yet been modified with Borg technology and turned into a world-destroying weapon of such magnitude that it was unprecedented. Then it had been a modest Romulan mining vessel. Plain, uninspired and one-tenth the size of what it would become but that didn’t make it any less deadly. Didn’t make its Captain any less insane.

Erin had to stop her mother. Somehow. She should have stopped her twenty years ago. Should have begged her mother to stay. Starfleet had lots of doctors, why did her mother have to go? It had upset Daddy that she went. He’d begged but Mommy hadn’t listened. He’d said if she left he’d never see her again. Mommy would have stayed if Erin had begged. Mommy would do anything if Erin asked. Mommy loved her. 

But Erin hadn’t. Mommy was a doctor. She helped people and the Romulans were hurt very badly. They needed Mommy. Mommy could make them better. That was Mommy’s job. Erin was very proud her Mommy helped people.  Why didn’t Daddy understand? Erin had begged him and Mommy not to fight. Daddy had stopped and Mommy had gone. If she’d only asked her mother to stay. She could have saved her.

“Captain Newton is lowering the shields. Prepare to receive survivors,” someone called. Erin’s mother hopped into action, grabbing medical kits and supplies from the shelves, keying things into consoles. She was right next to the transporter pad. The _USS Galen_ was a medical frigate, the primary sickbay had its own transporter pad for quick retrieval of the injured.

“No!” Erin screamed.

The transporter hummed. Three beams glittered to life. People moved toward the pad to assist the survivors that didn’t exist. They gawked in confusion at the three person sized spheres with their three sharp looking blades at the top, the sickly yellow-green glow at the center that indicated the mining charges were armed. The transporter hum was replaced by a steady and imperative beeping.

“What the…?” one person asked.

“Run!” Erin yelled. She knew it was hopeless. Even if they ran, it was too late. Erin ran toward her mother anyway. She had to try.

One step.

“Oh god,” her mother breathed.

Another step.

Her mother turned to run out of instinct.

A third step.

Everyone ran.

A fourth step and Erin reached out her hand, the tiny too small to do anything hand. If her mother only saw for an instant and took it.

The world exploded in fire and shrapnel, Screams rent the air. The hull breeched and Erin’s mother was ripped from the deck plating like a rag doll and flung into space with force enough to snap her spine.

“Mommy!” Erin screamed in horror. “Mommy!”

The fire consumed her vision and tears blinded her. She threw herself after her mother….

And almost pitched herself over the railing of the _Devil’s Trap’s_ command pit. The Red Alert klaxon was still wailing, the bridge was dim. Coolant spewed into the air. Busted consoles sparked with electricity. People lay unconscious or dead all around her. She wasn’t a child anymore.

The viewscreen showed an armada of Romulan Warbirds hurling torpedos at them in uncountable number.

“Hull integrity is below twenty five percent,” the computer warned.

“Shields!” Erin barked automatically from long practice. Her head reeled, her heart literally hurt. Her breathing came in frantic gasps. Her eyes still burned from her previous tears. What the hell was going on?

The ship rocked and Erin was tossed to the deck, on top of Lorian’s prone form. His eyes stared blankly, very dead.

“Dean! Shields!”

“Shields are off line,” the computer warned. “Hull breaches on all decks. Life support failing.”

“Computer, switch to auxiliary power!” Erin demanded.

“Auxiliary power is off line,” the computer told her.

Erin scrambled up. Sam was dead. His neck was twisted, broken.  Pril was charred from an energy discharge from his broken console. Janira was slumped unmoving, bleeding from her nose over hers. Law was dead behind her, hanging over the Tactical console. Talia had been tossed down in front of the Ops and Conn consoles, limbs at all the wrong angles and still.  Mary was sprawled on the floor as well, dead. Cass was draped over the command pit railing, dead too. They were all dead. Where was Dean?

The Romulans fired another barrage of torpedos and they ripped through the _Devil’s Trap_ like it wasn’t even there. She’d never seen anything like it. Explosions sounded. People were screaming in agony. Another hit and they were all dead. If there was anyone left alive to be killed.

“Warp core breach eminent.” The computer declared.

“Computer, eject the core!” Erin shouted mortified. The _Devil’s Trap_ was the most automated ship in the fleet. It could very nearly run itself if asked to. The _Devil’s Trap_ had not one warp core. but three. If one breached, it would cause the other two to breach as well. Anything in a five light year radius would be obliterated.

“Unable to comply,” the computer said blandly.

Erin hit her combadge. “This is the Captain. Abandon ship. Abandon ship!” She vaulted over a broken console. “Dean!” Erin called frantically, searching for him. They had to get to an escape pod. What had happened? What was going on? What kind of weapons could tear through a neutronium alloy hull like a rock through tissue paper?

She found him, still alive but barely. He was face down on the floor on the other side of the command pit. Thrown there during the battle. Erin turned him over. The entire right side of his face was a mass of black burns, he was bleeding.

“Come on,” Erin said and started to haul him off the floor. She put his arm around her neck and lifted. He was heavy and hard to move. Erin’s heart hammered in her chest. She knew damn well they’d never make it. But she had to try. She wouldn’t stop trying. She’d failed to stop her mother. She had to do everything it took.

“The torpedos. Subspace weapons. Terrible. You should have listened, Erin,” Dean rasped weakly. “They’re all dead.”

“We have to go,” Erin said and made her way toward the turbolift. She was terrified. The experimental Romulan subspace weapons? That’s what had happened? She’d stopped the Admiral and condemned them all in the process. Her ship. Her crew. Her friends. The entire Federation. Erin had forgotten that this couldn’t be real. That they hadn’t even attempted the mission yet. It felt real. That malevolent presence hounded her heels, as if it was chasing her like a rabid animal.

“Too late,” Dean gasped. He tried to look behind them again toward the view screen. Erin looked back. A torpedo was headed straight for them, impossibly huge and fast.

“It’s your fault,” Dean accused.

“Oh god,” Erin breathed, frozen. There was no point in running. They were dead. She’d killed them all.

Suddenly the other self from before melted out of thin air directly in front of the view screen, face a mask of incredible fury. She looked up. “Get out!” she screamed forcefully.

The torpedo hit, the wrap core breached causing a chain reaction in the other two and the world exploded again. Taking Erin, Dean and her other self with it.

Erin sat bolt upright in bed as if she’d been launched from a sling shot. She’d almost catapulted out of the bed before she realized she was in her own quarters, on her own ship—which was not obliterated or under attack—drenched in a cold sweat. Her breathing came in rapid gasps, her heart was beating so hard and fast she could feel it slamming against her sternum. She shook uncontrollably and the headache that had been a minor annoyance now felt like someone was trying to crush her skull in a vice.

Erin curled up, drawing her knees to her chest and tucked her head between them, hands clutching her aching skull as she tried to regain a purchase on reality. Just a dream. It was all just a dream. Damn it the theragen derivative was supposed to work. Screw commending Cass on his work with the pheromonal inhibitor, she was going to throttle him for substandard work with the theragen.

She was consumed with terror and fury on such a level that had anyone been in the room with her she was certain she’d have attacked them without provocation no matter who it was. But it was just a dream. A very bad, monumentally terrifying dream but only a dream. Erin endeavored to force herself to breath normally before she made herself pass out from hyper ventilation. It worked somewhat but her heart rate remained rapid and vigorous as though she were in the midst of running for her life. The trembling did not lessen though the terror began to ebb with the knowledge that it was just a dream. The anger however, stayed firmly in place.

Why would she dream about her mother’s murder? Erin knew only the facts of her mother’s death. She hadn’t been present. She hadn’t even known it had happened until her father solemnly roused her from her bed in the middle of the night. And Erin hadn’t dreamed of her mother’s death in decades. She’d long ago managed to accept it, to move on. Even if her mother’s loss had played a major part in who Erin had become. Why now?

Because the Admiral had tried to use it to goad her into unquestioningly attacking the Romulans? That had to be it. The Admiral had dredged up old memories and pulled a scab off a wound that would never quite heal.

Erin grunted once over her skull-piercing headache and made herself think. She needed reasonable explanations for her dreams to get control of herself.

Why the other part of the dream? Because she truly believed the Romulans were up to something but she didn’t know what? Because she was afraid that-lack of evidence aside—if she stood against the Admiral on this mission that the Romulans might have those experimental subspace weapons and blow the Federation to Kingdom Come? But she had a plan for that. They’d find out and Erin would stop them if they did. Or was it because her worst fear was the loss of her ship and her crew? A fear that had been instilled in her since the loss of her mother. That was it. The second half of the dream was just a manifestation of her tired, stressed mind’s worst fears.

Then what had been that at the end? The other self screaming at the air to ‘Get out’? Or how about that malevolent force that seemed to be present in both parts of the dream and she’d _known_ wanted to hurt her? That made no sense but Erin’s head hurt too much to figure that out just now.

Erin set her jaw and refused to give into to her basic fears. Fear got people killed. A Captain had to own their fear, to control it. That her mind had even dared to throw her worst fears at her only made her more angry and determined not to let the fear win. Erin prided herself on her self-control. On her ability to face her fear down and win. Her fear did not rule her, she ruled her fear. She would do this. She would not fail and she would not start a war. No one was going to die. She wouldn’t let them.

Slowly she got control of herself and the shaking subsided for the most part but she couldn’t stave all of it off. Her heart still raced and she felt ready to go to warp all on her own. And this damn headache _hurt_.

“Computer, time,” she grunted, uncurling but still holding her pounding skull.

“The time is 0700 hours,” the computer said monotonously.

Erin had over slept. She was due on the bridge in an hour. She never over slept. She didn’t even need a wakeup call from the computer. She always woke at 0600 without fail. Further annoyed by having overslept, Erin forced herself to get out of the bed and padded into the bathroom.

“Computer, activate sonic shower,” she commanded, using as soft a voice as she dared and the computer still respond as she started stripping. She didn’t bother to tell it to increase the lighting. Her head hurt enough as it was.

Erin was taking a shower and then she was going straight to sickbay to see Cass for something to stop this damned headache and to complain about the theragen derivative not working. She’d never known him to do such substandard work. Up until now, Cass had been able to heal anything and everything thrown at him no matter what it was. Plus, she needed to talk to him about some theoretical plastic surgery.

Erin didn’t have the time or the patience for headaches and nightmares. She had a potential war to avert, an Admiral to confront and a mission to ensure didn’t go horribly wrong somewhere in between. Oh, and her career to ruin in the process but who was keeping tabs?

 

***

 

Dean strode down the corridor toward the main science lab with purpose and his mind already kicked into high gear without the aid of coffee despite the early hour. He kept thinking about what had happened last night and couldn’t shake it. He’d almost gone back on every promise he’d ever made to himself about not pursuing Erin. He’d almost kissed her in that turbo lift, fueled by worry and anger. By the notion that she was going to willingly and without any fanfare whatsoever demolish everything she’d achieved for one act. By the idea that Starfleet would turn her into an example, court martial her, sentence her with the maximum penalty and ship her off to a penal colony where she’d be imprisoned for years if not the rest of her life. And Erin didn’t seem to care.

He should have felt bad for letting his personal feelings get the better of him but he didn’t.  What he felt bad about was that Erin kept pulling further and further away from him as even a friend. And here he was seeking out the person who might be his main rival. Pure genius.

Dean had never claimed to be brilliant. But he was determined and he was not going to let Erin do this to herself alone. Not as her First Officer, not as her friend and not as the potential lover he’d agreed he would never be. He wouldn’t let her do it if for no other reason than a good First Officer was loyal to his Captain even against the Captain’s desires.

He found his quarry walking with perfectly measured steps around the bend of the corridor, a padd in hand as he tapped something into the screen while he walked. He was headed to drop off the day’s duty roster to the science department before he was due on the bridge. Dean quickened his step to catch up to the Vulcan and fell in beside him. He looked around to be sure no one would over hear.

Lorian acknowledged him without ever looking up. “Greetings Commander.” He winced a bit and put his fingertips to his temple for an instant.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked.

“Nothing of importance Commander. I merely seem to have over extended myself in my attempt to further read Admiral Zelle,” Lorian said. “It will pass.”

“Did you get anything?” Dean asked hopefully.

“No Commander I have not. If I had I would have informed the Captain promptly,” Lorian said with a note of something that sounded to Dean like annoyance that he’d asked.

“I thought you Vulcans were supposed to be such great telepaths?” Dean snarked quietly. Lorian arched a brow at him.

“Vulcans are indeed consummate telepaths Commander. But the Admiral seems to be equally skilled. Her ability to shield her mind is quite profound. She must have studied for many years to acquire such discipline. A mind meld would doubtless eliminate the difficulty but that would not be discreet.”

Dean wanted badly to make some smart remark about that but he could find none. Instead he got down to business.  “We’re not going to really let the Captain do this are we?” he asked in a whisper. Lorian stopped and looked at him as if he were confused.

“You no longer agree with the Captain’s decided course of action?”

“Do you?” Dean asked in hissed incredulity.

Lorian cocked his head and his slanted brows pulled together. “I do not see any reason to believe that Captain’s plan is not logical. If I had, I would have said as much before now. The plan was, in part, your suggestion Commander. Have you changed your mind about its soundness?”

“No,” Dean said. “But I do disagree with her destroying her career to do it.”

Lorian tucked his arms behind his back in that thoughtful pose of his. “It is most unfortunate but I do not see that there is any other course the Captain could take in this situation.”

“So you’re okay with her committing career suicide and getting packed off to a penal colony for the rest of her life while we sit by and watch?” Dean snipped having to make himself keep his voice low so no one would hear him.

“That is what the Captain ordered us to do. And may I point out, the fact that we are speaking about this at all is against her orders,” Lorian said. Dean clenched his jaw at him. Lorian looked further confused. “It is the most logical thing to do, Commander.”

“Screw our orders. You don’t just stand by while your Captain does everything but commit hara-kiri to keep your ass out of the fire,” Dean spat. Did this damn Vulcan have no sense of loyalty, of duty? Was logic the only thing that mattered to him? Again Dean wondered how _he’d_ caught Erin’s eye.

Lorian shook his head. “You would have me disobey the Captain? To what end? I can see no useful purpose in doing so. If we were to, we would jeopardize the Captain’s plan to prevent a potential war Commander. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“I’m not saying we screw up Erin’s plans. I’m saying we stand with her whether she likes it or not,” Dean said stubbornly.

“That is not logical Commander,” Lorain insisted. “You cannot do one without doing the other.”

“To hell with logic, Mr. Lorian. And it _can_ be done. Your Captain, who has known you a full five days, is going to skewer herself to keep you from being skewered. How can you possibly be okay with that? Have you no sense of loyalty?” Dean fumed. He’d thought he could sway the Vulcan to his cause. Erin deserved that from her crew. She’d earned it a dozen times over. Erin deserved their loyalty and their support. No matter what she’d ordered them to do. Even if it meant _not_ doing what she’d ordered them to do.

“You are quite wrong Commander Singer. I have a very strong sense of loyalty. To disobey my Captain would be unconscionably disloyal. I greatly admire the Captain for what she is about to do. She has put logic, morality and need above emotion and desire,” Lorian said sounding as if Dean had offended him. “She is a remarkable woman.”

Dean repressed the swell of jealousy Lorian’s comments caused in him. It wasn’t possible that the Vulcan liked Erin back? No, not even remotely. He was a Vulcan. They didn’t go in for that.

“Yeah well that remarkable woman you admire so much is about to destroy her career and her freedom so you don’t have to lose yours and she barely knows you. What good will she be to anyone in a penal colony? How logical is it that? Sometimes you have to be disloyal to be loyal.”

Lorian stood there looking at him with no expression for a long moment, thinking. Dean could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“That is high illogical,” Lorian said again, less resistant.

“Logic will only get you so far Mr. Lorian. Then you have to get out and push,” Dean said.

Lorian sighed as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to do then stood very straight and said, “What is it you need me to do Commander?”

 

***

 

Erin entered sickbay looking, she supposed, far better than she felt. She was tidy, clean and in uniform anyway. But she’d noted the dark shadows under her eyes in the mirror and while she’d managed to get her breathing under control enough she wasn’t at risk for hyper-ventilating, her heart beat still thudded in her chest and her headache raged unmercifully.

The instant she walked in and started to traverse the short distance from the door past the office area with its transparent aluminum windows that gave the attending physician a full view of all areas while at their desk, the EMH activated, appearing out of thin air in an eerily similar way to the way her ‘other self’ had. 

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” he intoned. He was an odd conglomeration of racial traits tweaked for what Erin supposed was maximum appeal. At slightly over six foot tall, he towered over Erin’s five foot seven. He sported the pointed ears, slanted brows and ubiquitous hair cut of a Vulcan but his hair was stark silver. Not old age silver, metallic silver. His complexion was pale but pink beneath instead of slightly green tinged and his nose was ridged like a Bajoran’s. He was also quite possibly the most annoying individual Erin had ever met.

“Where is Doctor Novak?” she asked.

Immediately the EMH adopted the superior haughty air Erin disdained so much. “The Doctor is not due on shift for another fifteen minutes, Captain. I am more than qualified to render any assistance you might need. May I remind you that I am equipped with over…” he started to say.

“Over here,” Cass called coming around the rounded wall of the office area from the other side whether the surgical bay/quarantine/decontamination bay was. The Doctor was in after all.  He took one look at Erin and frowned.

“Oh,” the hologram said obviously displeased the real Doctor was here.

Holographic life forms had rights now, which Erin fully supported. They were entitled to all the same considerations that any other life form was given. But they still had an off switch. How fortuitous. Erin wished some people had off buttons.

“Computer,” she said. The EMH’s expression became outraged. He knew what she was going to do…she’d done it before.

“Not again. You wouldn’t dare! Captain, I have rights!” he protested.

“Deactivate EMH.”

The hologram disappeared with his mouth open to threaten to report her for violation of his civil rights as a sentient being….again. He hadn’t done it yet.

Erin looked toward Cass to begin explaining why she’d come but he already had a tricorder out and was herding her backward onto one of the five bio-beds that perimetered the main exam area. “Sit down,” he said. He didn’t wait for her to comply, he pushed downward on her shoulder as the back of her knees contacted the bio-bed to make sure she did it. Cass whipped out his hand scanner and started moving it around in the air around her head.

“The theragen isn’t working,” Erin snipped. Her head hurt too much to be polite and she knew it would make no difference to Cass if she was rude or not. He’d simply ignore it or fail to recognize it as rude in the first place. “And I have an excruciating headache.”

“You’re _still_ having nightmares?” Cass’s expression grew grimly concerned as he waved the scanner around her head. Erin had the absurd desire to swat it like an irritating fly buzzing around her head.  Cass tapped at the tricorder and shook his head. “Your vitals are all over the place.” He fetched a hypospray and set it for something. Without preamble or permission he pushed it against her neck, whatever it was deployed with a hiss.

Erin cut an annoyed glance at him and opened her mouth to ask what it was but Cass stepped on her words without any care for whatever it was she intended to say. “Your adrenaline, norepinephrine and cortisol levels are higher than they were the last time. Your heart rate and respiration are too high.”

“And correspondingly the nightmare was worse. That’s not odd Cass,” Erin insisted. “Just give me something for the headache and figure out why the theragen isn’t working. I have to get to the bridge.”

Cass set his jaw. “It _is_ odd. The prazosin _should_ have worked. The theragen derivative _is_ working. Every nerve it is designed to affect is inhibited. You shouldn’t be _capable_ of dreaming. Your entire system is in hyperarousal. For no reason I understand, the parts of your brain associated with memory and executive function are highly over stimulated. In addition, the rate of synaptic firing in the sub-cortical region is significantly increased.” He shook his head again. “Something is drastically wrong, Erin.”

“I’m fine,” Erin insisted stubbornly. “I had another nightmare. I have a stress headache.”

“You are _not_ fine,” Cass said, his tone never varying. He fiddled with the hypospray again, configuring it for something else.

“Are you going to give me something for the headache or not?” Erin said sharply. She didn’t have time for whatever was ‘wrong’. She had a war to try to prevent.

“Yes,” Cass said unfazed by it. Again he pressed the hypospray into her neck and depressed it. Hard. Erin winced. He’d done that on purpose. He was aggravated with her. “And I’m putting you on medical leave as of this moment. I want to run more tests.”

“You can’t,” Erin said alarmed. He would do it. Cass did not make threats. Erin couldn’t let him. Not now. They couldn’t afford it.

“I can and I am. I told you if the theragen derivative didn’t work as planned I would have to tell Dean,” Cass belligerently informed her. He favored her with a sad glance. “I’m sorry, Erin.” Cass apologizing was unheard of. For him to even recognize he’d done something to apologize for was unheard of.  He tucked the hypospray away in his overcoat pocket.

Erin’s anger increased. She’d never been relieved of command for any reason and she wasn’t about to start now. Too much was at stake. “You’re relieving me of command?”

“For your own safety.  If this continues you will…,” he started to say Erin stomped on it viciously.

“Am I emotionally compromised?”

Cass frowned but answered. “No, there’s nothing to indicate that.”

“Am I mentally disabled? Are my decision making skills in anyway inhibited by this?”

“No. In fact with your executive functions over stimulated and the increased synaptic firing _technically_ you’re better at it,” Cass said very reluctantly, bordering on anger himself. Erin had seen Cass angry a time or two. It wasn’t pretty.

“Then on what grounds are you relieving me of command?” Erin growled.

“Physical. I don’t know what is causing this and unless it is stopped soon…” Cass began to say again.

“Cass, in approximately six hours we will be at the Neutral Zone and on the brink of a war with the Romulans. That’s what the Code 47 was about. Does my physical condition take precedence over the billions of lives that will be lost if the Romulans declare war?”  Erin spat. “Do you really think the Federation can survive a third war?”

Cass blinked and his jaw tightened so much Erin could see the veins in his neck stand out. She’d just put her value as a single human being against his Hippocratic oath to do no harm. It was low but Erin didn’t have time to argue ethics and particulars. But his look of furious indignation and moral conflict made her soften a bit.

“I swear after this is over, I’ll accept any medical care deemed necessary without argument,” Erin said. In fact, she wouldn’t have a choice. Penal colonies had excellent medical facilities. But he didn’t need to know it wouldn’t be him doing the doctoring.  “Just keep me together another couple of days.”

Cass blew a harsh breath out through his nose. “I don’t like this and I want it officially recorded in the ship’s logs.”

Erin nodded a bit. His protests in the ship’s logs would be the least of her problems when this was over. “Duly noted.”

Cass sighed and looked at her unhappily. “What I just gave you will help reduce your levels back to normal and take care of the headache. I can manage it for now but Erin…this has been going on for more than a week. The human body was never meant to sustain this level of stress and hyperarousal for this long uninterrupted. More than a day, maybe two and it could kill you.”

“That’s all I need,” Erin said. He was right, her headache had begun to ebb and her heart rate though still faster than normal had slowed. She was still suffused with that unexplainable anger and trepidation but she was could manage that.

Cass frowned deeply.  “You know I could declare you suicidal and have you forcibly removed from command because of this.”

 “Yes. But you won’t.”

“No, I won’t. Not right now. But if you ever put me in such an untenable position again I will lodge a formal complaint,” Cass said firmly. “I might even quit.”

Erin smiled wanly. It was his way of saying he was worried about his friend and didn’t like having to choose between her and the greater good. She knew it was cruel of her to force him into this but it was necessary. 

“Thank you, Cass,” she said reaching out and squeezing his shoulder not as his captain but as his friend. He didn’t smile in return, Cass never smiled, but he did squeeze her shoulder in return. “Now, speaking of Romulans…how long would it take you to surgically alter a standard landing party to look like them?”

That was part of her plan. If Erin couldn’t make the Admiral see reason and they had to go through with this she fully intended to ensure that Starfleet’s involvement was never detected. It was the only way to ensure that they wouldn’t start a war.

She had the means to disguise the ship as a Romulan vessel, complete with the correct authorization codes and conceal the identity of her crew as Romulans. No one would ever be the wiser. Erin would have to call in every favor she was owed to get it done and it meant asking Franklin Drake for his help but she’d do it. He’d used her and her crew enough times, it was more than time that she returned the favor. Besides…the Admiral couldn’t protest her contacting and utilizing a man who wasn’t supposed to exist from an organization that equally wasn’t supposed to exist.

Cass considered her question for a moment. “A couple of hours if I use the EMH to help.”

Erin nodded and slid off the bio-bed. “Good. Then get ready to perform a little plastic surgery. We may need it.”

Cass nodded tightly. “Alright.” Erin turned to leave and then turned back. After what she’d just done she at least owed him the compliment he deserved for his work with the pheromonal inhibitor.

“Oh,” she said, “Excellent work with the pheromonal inhibitors. I don’t know what you did but it works like a charm. I haven’t had the first inkling of attraction to the Admiral. I can’t stand her in fact.”

Cass frowned and shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. It was a standard shot. Nothing was changed.”

“Huh,” Erin said. “I guess Deltan sex appeal was severely over exaggerated then.” She shrugged and left, leaving Cass still standing there looking confused…again. The poor man was going to have an aneurysm. He wasn’t used to not knowing the answers at any given time.

 

***

 

The stage was set and all the players—some of whom were yet to be revealed to all parties--were on their marks. All Captain Winchester could do was sit in her chair and wait for the curtain call. Her feelings of anger and impending doom just kept getting worse. It was all she could do to sit still and not appear nervous. And despite the analgesic Cass had given her, Erin’s head still hurt. It was tolerable however.

Dean—who to his credit was not drumming his fingers on the armrest incessantly-- sat in his customary place by her right side. To her left—and to Erin’s eternal revulsion—sat Admiral Zelle, her bald head raised high and haughty. Mr. Lorian was at the science station. Talia was at the security station. Janira at communications. Pril at the helm. Sam at Ops. Behind them was Lieutenant Mills in Law’s place at the tactical station. Every other station was manned. Mary was down in engineering giving them their smooth ride. Cass was preparing in sickbay. Everything was in readiness. And yet Erin still felt like she was about to be asked to perform a play she didn’t know the words to for an audience that was more likely to lob daggers rather than rotten fruit. The air was so thick with tension you could have grasped a handful of it.

“Lieutenant Pril, distance to the Neutral Zone,” Erin asked.

“One light year, Captain,” the Saurian flight controller answered promptly. Erin was using formal address on the bridge now. Mustn’t look like they were shirking protocol on the bridge in front of an Admiral Erin was about to go toe to toe with.

“All stop,” Erin ordered. Let the show begin.

“What?” Admiral Zelle said sitting beside her, obviously in stunned outrage.

“Aye, aye, sssir,” Pril hissed and the impeccable navigator halted the _Devil’s Trap_ on a dime without a single rattle.

“Why are we stopping?” the Admiral demanded to know. “Your orders are to…”

Erin cut her off very calmly, as if it mattered not at all to her. “To proceed through the Neutral Zone to the Vendor System where we will board a supposed Romulan base hidden there and then seek out and destroy alleged experimental subspace weapons of mass destruction. Yes. I know.”

The Admiral’s eyes went as big as saucers. No one on the bridge batted an eyelash. Even Erin was surprised by that. She’d known Sam, Lorian and Dean wouldn’t but the rest of them had no idea why they’d been ordered here. She’d expected a few alarmed gasps at the least.  Bravo to them.

“How dare you violate Code 47 protocol. I gave you a direct order to…” the Admiral spat shooting up out of her chair in anger.

“Not tell my crew—and I quote—‘more than absolutely necessary’. Considering we’re about to commit an act of war on an already edgy species begging for a reason on your say so with no hard evidence. I felt it was ‘absolutely necessary’ they knew. I’m sorry, did I misinterpret your orders?” Erin said keeping her seat, not intimidated. She was committed now no point in being afraid of the inevitable.

“You are dangerously close to showing contempt for a superior officer, Captain,” Admiral Zelle seethed.

“Oh, I’m not close,” Erin said. “I am.”

“I’ll see you court-martialed for this,” Zelle spat.

“Please do,” Erin said nonchalantly. “I could use the vacation.” That threat held little sway over Erin right now. She was going to be court-martialed for much worse before this was over. The Admiral’s eyes bugged in fury. Before she could spout off something else Erin looked down at the science station. “Mr. Lorian, perform a full long-range sensor sweep of the surrounding area. I want to know what’s out there.”

“Yes, Captain,” Lorian said and went to work.

“I demand that you enter the Neutral Zone this instant!” Admiral Zelle snapped.

“Not on my ship you don’t,” Erin said forcefully. “Captain’s Privilege, Admiral Zelle. I may have to obey your orders but I get to do it my way. If you don’t like that, when this is over, lodge a complaint.”

The Admiral started to turn a most intriguing shade of maroon. Erin stared her down. “You picked my ship and my crew for this mission because we’re the best there is for this job. Now let us do it.”

The Admiral fumed a second or two more and then she sat down in the chair, hard. Erin had won that round. But it wasn’t over yet.

Erin peered past Dean--who was amazingly quiet and calm considering--to Janira, looking as feminine as ever in her skirted uniform. “Commander Triven, begin monitoring subspace communications, all bands, all frequencies.  If you hear a word of Romulan notify me immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” the Trill said.

“How long is this going to take?” the Admiral asked sullenly.

“Long enough for you and I to have a little chat, one Starfleet officer to another,” Erin said as she ran a hand over the armrest of her chair in a lazy fashion, surreptitiously touching holo-buttons to open a channel to her Ready Room. “Since you are ordering me and my crew to commit an act of war without provocation based on a few rumors and Admiral  Janeway’s hypothesis—which is tenuously relative to this mission at best only because it also involves subspace weapons—and have invoked Article 14 as well as Code 47, I’m going to need something a little more convincing than ‘might have’.”

The door to Erin’s ready room opened and shut quietly.

The Admiral opened her mouth to speak. Erin ignored her. “Were you aware that the Vendor System has been under a Code 7-10 Quarantine, by both the Romulans and the Federation, for one hundred a forty two years, Admiral? I wasn’t. Come to find out that the reason for that quarantine is because Vendor II is populated by a species known for their deception and shape changing abilities. They were deemed psychologically unfit for inclusion in the Federation or the Romulan Empire and the planet classified as ‘no-contact’. ” She looked over the Admiral’s shoulder, toward her Ready Room. “Isn’t that right Lieutenant Law?”

“Indeed it is Captain,” Law said.

The Admiral spun around in her chair in confusion. At the sight of a Romulan, in a Starfleet uniform no less, on the bridge of a Starfleet vessel, she leapt out of the chair with her mouth gaping open.

“Jolan’Tru, Admiral,” Law greeted politely…in Romulan.

“May I introduce our resident expert on Romulans and Romulan intelligence,” Erin said rising to her feet to put herself on an even keel with the Admiral. Law inclined his head in acknowledgement.

The Admiral snarled at Erin. “You have a Romulan serving on your vessel?”

“Yes. I do,” Erin said calmly.

“Why did I not know this?” the Admiral growled. She was well and truly pissed off now.

“There is a great deal about me and my crew you don’t know Admiral Zelle.”

The dainty Deltan stiffened in complete rage. “Does Admiral Quinn or Admiral T’Nae know about this?”

Erin lifted her brows as though surprised. “Why yes they do. However, I do wonder how much they know about this mission. I hardly think the Head of Starfleet Command would be so stupid as to authorize an act of war against the Romulans on pure speculation. So, unless you can give me more than ‘maybes and might haves’ I’m going to have to insist on clarification from him.” She reached for the control panel in her armrest and began to tap in the proper commands to open a Code 47 channel to Starfleet Command.

“What are you doing?” the Admiral demanded.

“You aren’t the only one who knows how to use Code 47, Admiral,” Erin said.

“Do it and I will relieve you of command,” the Admiral hissed, ‘for attempting to subvert Article 14 of the Starfleet Charter and breaking Code 47 protocols in order to facilitate an act of high treason and sabotage.”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” Erin said and lifted her finger to open the channel at the exact same time that Lorian turned very abruptly and said warningly to Dean, “Commander.” But it was too late, Dean was already on his feet and as he stood so did every other person on the bridge, including Lorain, despite his warning only a second before. For an instant, Erin was so shocked by the display she had to blink to ensure she was really seeing it.

“You and what army?” Dean growled.

Erin pulled her finger away from the control panel and looked sharply at her first officer. He had no idea what he was doing. She appreciated the gesture immensely and the fact that he’d somehow convinced Lorain to join him was testament to his ability to persuade people to do anything he wanted but it was complete folly.

“Stand down, Commander Singer.” 

Dean stood straight as an arrow.

“Commander,” Lorian said quietly. “I believe we should…” But he never got to finish, Dean trounced him.

“With all due respect Captain. No. We stand behind you,” Dean said fiercely, stubbornly, stupidly.

Erin was overwhelmingly grateful for his fierce loyalty and terribly proud of her crew for it. But she was also furious. Did no one on this ship know how to follow orders? There was a damned good reason Erin had ordered them not to involve themselves. 

“Do you?” the Admiral said looking at Dean with a slowly widening smile. “I don’t need an army, Commander Singer.” The Admiral looked at Erin.

“Either comply with my orders or I will not only take command of this vessel and complete the mission anyway, I will have you and your crew court-martialed for high treason, mutiny and sabotage. You will all spend the rest of your natural lives in a maximum security criminal rehabilitation center and never see anything but your cell walls ever again.”

A nervous wave of murmurs went over the bridge as well it should have. That was the usual sentence for high treason all on its own, it didn’t include the sentences levied for mutiny and sabotage. To be sent to such a facility meant that every single person on the bridge would be incarcerated and have their minds cleansed and re-programmed to be returned to society with all their ‘criminal’ tendencies erased right along with their personalities. They would literally no longer be themselves. That was assuming they were ever deemed suitable to return to society at all. Humans could survive it, if you called that surviving. No Vulcan sentenced to it ever had and given the similarities between the two species Erin didn’t think a Romulan would either.

But to their credit not a single one of them sat down. Loyal and brave to the very end the whole lot of them. Damn idiots. Erin had had a plan to negate the Admiral’s threats against her for the most part. She’d still have ended up in a penal colony—charged with mutiny and insubordination certainly but not high treason. She’d accepted that already. If Dean had just kept his mouth shut and not instigated the others Erin could have made the call to Starfleet Command anyway, endangering only herself and calling the Admiral’s bluff.

If it had turned out that Admiral Quinn had authorized this knowing the evidence was decidedly lacking then Erin might still have been compelled to obey but she’d have had the right to demand a hearing before the Federation Council and the Federation President to prove that it was not an act of sedition before having to do it. She’d have bought time and lives. She’d also have rendered her crew faultless under legal scrutiny.

If it turned out that Admiral Quinn had not authorized it well the entire thing would have become moot on the spot. Erin could take Admiral Zelle under arrest for the very same thing she was threatening Erin with and there would never be an act of war committed.

But now…Erin had two choices. Either she complied and tried to mitigate as much of this disaster as possible. A disaster which might start a war and get her and her crew killed if she wasn’t very careful. Or she could let the Admiral take command and most certainly do all of the above plus get them all--if they survived-- sent to a criminal rehabilitation center.

Oh she could still go through with her plan. She could push the button and call Admiral Quinn and possibly still ‘win’. But the only way to call someone’s bluff was to be willing to lose everything if you were wrong. Erin was willing to wager herself but not her whole crew. Not like this. Starfleet would do what it had to against Erin but it would be nothing compared to the punishment they’d levy against an entire ship of officers committing mutiny with Article 14 invoked. To top it all off Erin still believed that the Romulans _were_ up to something just not what nor did she agree with how the Admiral wanted to find out.

If she had been utterly convinced that there was no basis for the belief that the Romulans were up to something she might have been willing to bet them all against the possibility of war. But she couldn’t, not if there was a sliver of a possibility that it was true. That would be equally as bad, to do nothing and a war happen because they hadn’t acted. The Romulans had given them plenty of reason to be suspicious. There was no good solution to this. The entire thing was a Sword of Damocles.

“So Captain Winchester. What will it be?” the Admiral said. “What wouldn’t you do for your loyal crew?”  She smiled again like a snake in the grass. She had Erin and she knew it. Erin had known this was going to go terribly wrong but instead of dissipating, the foreboding increased. Despite that there was no question of her choice.

“Alright, Admiral. You win,” Erin said very, very grudgingly.

“Erin you can’t be serious!” Dean said in shock.

“Deadly,” Erin said snapping her head down to glare at him. How could he have been so blind? What had he been thinking? Him, of all people. He was a better tactician than that, a better officer. She could hardly believe it. “Sit down Commander. That is an order.”

Dean hesitated his expression flitting through anger, incredulity and what was unmistakably hurt. “Yes, sir,” he said finally, sense having won out.

Teeth gritted with frustration and anger that broiled like acid in her veins Erin sat down in the Captain’s chair as the Admiral triumphantly retook her place beside Erin. Erin had the overwhelming desire to reach over and throttle the Deltan.

“Lieutenant Law, take your station,” Erin snapped, her voice the steel edge of command. Without a word the Romulan complied, replacing Lieutenant Mills. “Mr. Lorian, the results of the long range scans.”

The Vulcan was very quick to comply though it was impossible to tell if he was cowed at all by what had just happened. His face was carefully blank. “Sensors indicate no ships within a five light year radius of our current position.”

Erin looked toward her communications officer, who sat down as if Erin had shoved her into the chair by force. “Janira?”

“No subspace communications from Romulan space detected in our area, Captain. We’re picking up nothing but standard communications traffic,” she answered promptly.

“Very good,” Erin said stiffly. “Open a secure channel to the last known frequency used by Franklin Drake.”

“Belay that order,” Admiral Zelle said.

“On what grounds?” Erin shot back. “It is not breach of Code 47 to contact a man in an organization who doesn’t technically exist.”

“I ordered you to proceed immediately into the Neutral Zone Captain,”  
 the Admiral said.

“Are you insane?” Erin said incredulously. “You picked this ship because we’re the best covert operations outside of Section 31. I have the ability to ensure that we will not be detected by the Romulans and completely prevent them ever finding out that Starfleet is involved in this ludicrous mission. My Chief Medical Officer is already standing by to tweak the away teams appearances to be Romulan. With the proper specifications, we’ll appear to be a Romulan vessel but I need to contact Drake to do it. Be reasonable Admiral, I’m trying to prevent the chance we are going to start a war.”

“No ship in the fleet has that ability Captain,” the Admiral said.

“Mine does. Call it a ‘gift’ from Section 31 for a job well done.”

“Another fact you failed to inform me of Captain.”

“I did say you don’t know this ship or its crew nearly as well as you think you do,” Erin snipped back. 

“Apparently,” the Admiral sneered. “How long would these modifications take?”

“Bridge to Engineering,” Erin said into the air. The computer automatically opened an internal channel.

“Harvelle here,” Mary’s voice responded.

“Commander Harvelle, how long would it take to modify the ship holoemitter to mimic a flawless rendering of a Romulan vessel with the proper specifications and authorization codes?”

There was a long pause as the Chief Engineer absorbed that, processed it and came up with an answer without going into a fit of histrionics at what it implied. “Maybe two hours, Captain.”

“Is that the best you can give me?” Erin asked.

“Perfection takes time, Captain,” Mary said. Erin knew she wasn’t fudging the estimate either. If Mary said it would take two hours, it would take two hours.

“Understood,” Erin said. “Standby.” The channel closed.

“A ship holoemitter,” the Admiral said. She sat back in the chair arrogantly. “Very impressive Captain but I’m afraid that two hours is too long. We have already been delayed by having to reduce speed to warp 7 to allow the engines to cool. We cannot afford any further delays. The Romulans may even now be planning an attack. Proceed into the Neutral Zone.”

“Are you _trying_ to start a war? The Vendor system is fifty-two light years from here. There is no way the Romulans could mount an attack before we could get there. We have quantum slipstream drive, the chances they do are slim. It will take all of ten minutes for us. It would take them nearly two weeks at warp 9,” Erin said in disbelief.

“Ten point four minutes actually Captain,” Lorian spouted from the science station. “The Romulans maximum arrival time would be twelve point fifty two days at warp 9. A speed that they could not maintain for that length of time. Given the reductions in speed they would have to allow to prevent superheating of their engines, a more accurate estimation would be seventeen point three days to safely reach Federation space. Given the current population and known military power of the Romulans, I predict a 5 percent chance that any ships sent to attack the Federation would be equipped with slipstream drives. Their attempt to usurp the Federation’s transwarp network suggests that there is very little probability that such devices are widely available to them. Otherwise there would have been no point in attempting to wrest control of the transwarp network from the Federation.”

Erin waved in Lorian’s direction pointedly. His explanation made it perfectly clear they held the higher ground in this case.

“And you’re telling me we can’t afford two hours to ensure Starfleet doesn’t start a war?” Erin said bitterly, angrily.

“War with the Romulans is inevitable Captain Winchester. We both know that.  You warded off their first attempt yourself,” the Admiral said.

“That doesn’t give us the right to shoot first! If we do this with no cover whatsoever we might as well make an open declaration of war. This ship is intended for devastating hit and run tactical missions. That’s what it’s designed for. To just blaze into Romulan space…it could get us all killed. Romulans don’t take prisoners. I am begging you to reconsider,” Erin said desperation seeping into her voice.

“The _Devil’s Trap_ has more than proven itself in combat against an entire armada before, Captain Winchester. Utilizing the quantum slipstream drive will negate the chance of us being detected before we reach our destination,” the Admiral said.

“Keyword being ‘destination’! Then we’ll be sitting ducks!” Erin argued.

“They won’t be able to stop us. You don’t know if the Romulans are already on their way to attack,” the Admiral went on as if Erin hadn’t spoken at all.

“There isn’t a ship for five light years!” Erin shot. “It’d take them a day just to cross that. We will be there and back before they could possibly….”

“Captain, I will not tolerate any further delays. Either comply or get out of the chair,” the Admiral said.

“I will _not_ help you start a war,” Erin said fiercely, determinedly.

“Are you disobeying a direct order then Captain?” the Admiral asked dangerously almost delighted with the prospect.

Erin gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached and her headache surged to full force again.

“Are you really willing to take the risk that I’m right and you’re wrong? Would you risk your ship and your crew on a ‘maybe’?” The Admiral prodded. “You know the Romulans, Captain. You know as well as I do that the chances that they aren’t up to something are significantly lower than that they are. Would you put the entire Federation at risk simply to assuage your desire to take the moral high road?”

Erin flashed back on her nightmare. The ship destroyed, the crew dead, the Romulans invading with the experimental subspace weapons that the Admiral alleged they had. What if she was wrong? No. Erin couldn’t take that risk.

Erin fought with herself and the headache for a moment longer then said. “Mr. Lorian, begin calculations for quantum slipstream.”

The Vulcan regarded her and then the Admiral for an instant, his head cocking slightly to the side in thought. “Yes, Captain.”  He turned back to his station.

“Pril, plot a course to the Vendor System. Avoid all inhabited planets and known points of traffic.”

“Yesss, sssir,” Pril hissed.

“I want that Romulan off the bridge as well. He’s a security risk,” the Admiral said.

Erin tensed again at her audacity but she relented. “I’ll have him relieved of his station but he stays on the bridge.” She wasn’t going to send her expert in Romulan intelligence off the bridge when they were headed directly into Romulan space.

The Deltan smirked at her and snorted delicately at Erin’s feeble impertinence. “Very well. I’ll allow you to keep your pet Romulan close by if that makes you feel better.”

“Commander Singer, relieve Lieutenant Law,” Erin said. She looked at him, daring him to protest even a little.

Dean nodded tightly and wordlessly rose to replace Law, who stepped away from the tactical station without argument. Surprising given the insult the Admiral had just made.

Erin touched the control panel in her armrest and opened a shipwide channel. “All decks prepare for quantum slipstream.”  The bridge lights automatically switched to blue and the computer trilled Blue Alert.

Erin sat back in her chair, the anger and foreboding that kept building inside her enough to make her want to scream. The pounding pain of her renewed headache barely able to be tolerated.  Captain Winchester had never felt so helpless to control a situation in her life and she was terrified it would be the death of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and review please!


	7. Chapter 7

With a crew as efficient as Captain Winchester’s it took only minutes for them to complete their tasks. Erin took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, shoulders squared, hands on the armrests and stalwartly ignoring the Admiral and her splitting headache. She was the Captain of this ship. She was damn well going to captain it.

“Courssse laid in,” Pril announced.

“Calculations for slipstream complete and telemetry confirmed,” Lorian declared.

“Deflector is at maximum and standing by,” Sam said.

Quantum slipstream drive surpassed anything the Federation had in terms of speed save for the even more unstable transwarp. But the ability to cross three sectors of space in ten minutes came with a great deal of risk. It was not stable for more than fifteen minutes at a time. It subjected the ship to incredible hull stresses. So much so that only a handful of ships were capable of utilizing the drives. And it was incredibly tedious to navigate.  If they deviated one micron from the calculated course or failed to detect and compensate for phase variances fast enough the slipstream threshold would destabilize and ultimately collapse. The ship would be crushed and hurtled out of the slipstream out of control. As such quantum slipstream was used in only the most dire emergencies.

Or when you were about to penetrate the Neutral Zone with abandon and didn’t want to be apprehended, tortured and killed before you’d made it two light years.

“Very good. Hold position,” Erin said. “Pril, I want you to drop us directly outside the Vendor System and not a parsec closer.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Pril hissed.

Erin knew all of them were nervous beyond telling maybe even scared but they were doing their duty as readily and as well as ever. She knew they wouldn’t fail her. They never had.

“Captain, I told you…” Admiral Zelle began to protest again. Erin looked at her sharply.

“And warp into God-knows-what waiting for us? Not a chance. You may be able to force my hand but you can’t make me kamikaze my crew,” Erin said very calmly, the deep anger that she harbored seeping out in a cold freeze. “If you try, I will kill you where you sit.”

The Admiral’s face turned maroon with rage and Erin stared back at her unblinking. The Deltan’s faint brows crinkled and she backed down. The rest of the bridge crew never blinked at the threat. They knew she meant it but they were not surprised by it. Lorian however arched one slanted brow at her harsh words though he said nothing.

If the Deltan was as empathic as her kind was said to be _she_ knew Erin meant it. For all Erin’s peaceful nature and her revulsion of violence without need there was still that lingering savage streak left behind by her human ancestors that raised its head when she’d been pushed.

“Proceed,” the Admiral said with a measure more civility in her voice. Or was it just a hint of fear? Erin preferred fear. She proceeded.

“Do it,” Erin commanded.

“Full impulssse,” Pril said hands zipping across his panel as the ship seamlessly started forward.

“Engaging slipstream drive,” Sam said and the bridge began to tremble a bit. The view outside showed a steadily forming haze of powder blue as the deflector opened the slipstream. The ship started to accelerate as the haze began to seize them.

“Quantum field is stable,” Lorian said.

Erin gripped her chair firmly. Things were about to get bumpy. So did everyone else. The haze began to coalesce into an undulating electric blue tunnel.

“Ssslipssstream velocity in four, thhhree, two, one…” Pril said and punched it. The slipstream grabbed them and the ship shot forward at an unbelievable rate of speed. If it were calculated it would meet or exceed Warp 20. The entire ship rattled like a child’s toy.  The Admiral looked slightly ashen. Erin grinned.

“Detecting a phase variance of 0.5,” Lorian warned as the ship shook harder hurtling through space like the dart it resembled.

“Compensssating,” Pril acknowledged. The phase variances would continue to increase even with compensation. It’s what made slipstream travel so dangerous. If they reached a point four two variance the threshold would collapse. And all the while the forces outside the ship drained their shielding at a steady if slow rate.

“Shields at ninety percent,” Sam told them.

“Power output is steady. Quantum field is holding,” Lorian relayed.

“Keep us together,” Erin encouraged them as the tremors aboard the ship increased.

“Shields down to eighty five percent,” Sam put in.

“Phase variance of 0.1,” Lorian warned his long finger graceful hands flying over the controls of the science station. “Remodulating deflector.” There was a beat. “Deflector geometry stable.”

“Correcting telemetry,” Pril replied.

“ETA to destination, fifteen seconds,” Sam informed.

“Compensating for spatial gradients,” Lorian said. “Phase variance of one point five.”

“Shields at eighty percent,” Sam warned. Now the ship was shaking so hard it resembled a small earthquake. The Admiral was holding onto her chair so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Compensssating,” Pril said as he adjusted accordingly.

“Arrival in, five…four…three…two…one!” Sam counted down. The ship flashed into normal space in a blaze of bright blue light, once again at full impulse and gliding smoothly under Pril’s skilled navigation. He was one of the best navigators in the fleet and though he wasn’t overly boastful of it, he knew it. The ship had ceased to shake…the Admiral had not.

“Rough ride, Admiral?” Dean said with feigned courtesy from behind them. The Admiral snorted softly and tried to look less like she’d been afraid they might be hurtled like a thrown egg to the surface of the nearest planet to be shattered into fragments.

But while Dean afforded himself a moment to throw a weak barb at the Admiral, Erin was intensely focused on the situation at hand. She felt that familiar rush of heart pounding adrenaline gush into her system on top of what the doctor was already trying to control. She felt that finely honed steel edge come to her without willing it out of long habit. She also felt that sick dread intensify threading through her very being like a spider web bullet. Her headache pounded fiercely and she willed herself to ignore it.

“Status,” she demanded.

She got it as the _Devil’s Trap_ hung just outside the Vendor System proper, it’s bright blue-violet ‘sun’ circled by a secondary red star that in turn was circled by three planets. A significant asteroid field lay between the third and second planets that would make navigation difficult even for a helmsman as skilled as Pril and it offered far too many places to hide for Erin’s liking. There was, to her worry, no visible evidence of ships coming or going from the system. But if the Romulan ships were cloaked there might not be.

“Shields are returning to full power,” Sam said. “Impulse and warp engines are stable and ready at your command.”

Erin didn’t have to tell her crew their jobs. They knew them and did them without prompting. This was not their first rodeo and Erin prayed it wouldn’t be their last.

“No damage,” Dean said. “Weapons standing by.”

“Take us to Yellow Alert,” Erin ordered. She wanted everyone ready for anything. It wasn’t a matter of if they’d meet trouble. It was a matter of when, from which direction and how many.

“Going to Yellow Alert,” Dean confirmed and the bridge lights went from blue to yellow casting the bridge in a rather dismal glow. The klaxon wailed its warning to prepare for possible tactical engagement.

“Mr. Lorian, sensor sweep,” Erin commanded. “Janira, begin monitoring all communications.  I want to know what’s there and what’s going on.”

While they set to work with quick nods Erin hit the control panel in her armrest and opened a ship wide channel. She would not take her crew in blind.

“This is your Captain speaking,” she said filling her voice with the confidence and command that her position required. Her crew was no doubt nervous and frightened. They needed their captain to reassure them. The Admiral’s expression soured but she did not try to stop from Erin addressing her crew. “As I’m sure you have noticed, we have crossed the Neutral Zone into Romulan Space. While I can not divulge the exact reasons for our presence here I would like you all to know that what we do here, what we have come here for, is for the good of the Federation. We may face serious peril on this mission. I expect the very best out of each and every one of you. There is not a person on this ship that has not proven themselves. I know I can count on you all.  In our next action, we can afford neither miscalculation nor error from anyone onboard. Stay focused, stay vigilant and above all stay courageous. But remember that discretion is the better part of valor. Winchester out.”

Her speech done, Erin released the controls and looked down toward the science station. “Mr. Lorian, report.”

“A binary system with a primary O Class star and a M Class red secondary….” The Vulcan began giving a full dissertation on the system from top to bottom.

“Tactical information only,” Erin said to hasten him along. She didn’t want to sit here any longer than she had to. Without missing a beat Lorian discarded the report he had intended to give.

“The second planet is Class M with a standard oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere. Sensors show a population of roughly 47,000 with approximately 15,600 reading as Romulan. No ships currently detected but if they are cloaked that is not surprising. I am detecting a facility located within the asteroid field orbiting the second planet but due to radiation from the field, I am unable to determine if it is the secret base that we are seeking. No incoming or outgoing traffic has been detected, Captain.”

“Oh, I’ll guarantee there are ships out there we just can’t see them,” Sam said. “There’s no way this system isn’t defended.”

“Indeed, Mr. Campbell,” Lorian agreed.

“15 thousand, that’s one third of the population. The Romulans have established a colony on the planet’s surface? That doesn’t make much sense,” Dean said voicing the thought that Erin was having. Why would anyone establish a colony on the surface of a planet in the same system that they were building (and presumably testing) devastating experimental subspace weapons? Who would endanger their own people on that kind of scale? The Romulans were an honor bound, peculiar, bloodthirsty lot but they valued family very highly, more so now than ever.

“It is most illogical,” Lorian agreed again.

Erin kept her tongue for the moment and looked toward her communications officer with a growing sense of discomfiture. Something was very wrong here.  Romulans were hell-bent on revenge but they were not stupid. “Janira, what have you found?”

The pretty Trill shook her head. “I’m picking up normal amounts of subspace traffic for a civilization of that size but they are all on coded channels Captain. I can’t tell you what any of it’s about without more time to break the encryptions.”

“Understood,” Erin said, leaning her elbow on the arm rest and curling her fingers against her lips in thought. “Continue to try to decipher the transmissions but we can’t just sit here and wait. We’ll be detected. Mr. Lor…”

“I knew it!” the Admiral declared from beside her, cutting Erin off.

“Knew what Admiral?” Erin prodded.

“Are you deaf? Your communications officer just said that the Romulans are sending messages on coded…”

“There are a million reasons for the Romulans to use coded channels. They’re inherently paranoid for one thing,” Erin said.

The Deltan scoffed. “It all but proves they are making those experimental subspace weapons!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Erin said sternly and then turned back to the science station. “Mr. Lorian, the third planet…is its gravitational field adequate to disguise our warp signature?”

“Yes, Captain I would say so,” the Vulcan replied. Erin nodded and looked down beyond the command pit to the conn.

“Pril, take us in nice and quiet like around the third planet. We’ll hide in the gravitational field and slid around the other side. Limber up those fingers, that asteroid field is going to be tricky to navigate.”

“Aye, aye, sssir. Never ssseen an asssteroid field yet thhhat I couldn’t fly thhhrough blind folded,” the Saurian said, his fingers tapped over his console and the ship began to move forward, into the Vendor system and heading stealthily for the side of the third planet furthest from Vendor II.

“Mr. Lorian initiate a tachyon detection grid and begin searching for cloaked ships,” Erin said.

“Yes, Captain but may I remind you that the chances of us successfully detecting cloaked ships is marginal,” Lorian said, already working on initiating the grid.

“It’s better than nothing,” Erin said her eyes constantly on the view screen for the tell tale distortion mimicking a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it heat wave that denoted a cloaked ship within viewer range. “Lieutenant Law,” Erin said deliberately using his rank to remind the Admiral he was a part of Erin’s crew whether the Admiral liked it or not, “What’s your opinion on all this?”

The Romulan who had stood very quietly behind the command pit came forward and stood next to his Captain. The Admiral bristled visibly. “I agree with the others’ assumptions. It is odd that there should be a colony on the planet if they are developing such dangerous weapons so nearby. We are not generally a suicidal people. However, assuming that they are and the Admiral’s intel is correct the system will be patrolled heavily. At least two squadrons if not more.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Erin muttered. Two squadrons they could deal with most likely. More than that and they might be outgunned and outnumbered. If they were set upon by more than one squadron at a time they were going to have a real problem.  “But there’s only one way to find out.”

“Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly,” Law said. Erin would have been deeply amused that the Romulan had been reading Earth children’s tales… if the connotation wasn’t so apt and so forebodingly accurate.

“Let’s just hope we’re the spider,” Dean agreed.

The _Devil’s Trap_ eased around the first planet in the Vendor system, skimming inside the outermost part of the planet’s gravitational field. Everyone was tense as a wire. They had begun to slip around the planet’s side and head into the asteroid field when Lorian announced the first of the squadrons.

“Cloaked ships detected, bearing 019, mark 038. Moving on a perpendicular course.”

“Red Alert,” Erin commanded. Instantly the bridge lights flared crimson and the klaxon wailed. “How many?”

“Unknown,” Lorian said.

“Have they detected us?”

“Not yet, Captain. We’re still obscured by the gravitational field,” Dean said.

“Pril, can you flank them without being seen?” Erin asked.

“I’ll try,” Pril said and the ship banked to starboard on a trajectory to pass under the asteroid field and then come up over the side to curve behind the location Lorian had noted, keeping the ship hidden for as long as possible.

The _Devil’s Trap_ maneuvered like the finely honed machine it was, gliding quickly into position.

“Cloaked ships are now dead ahead,” Lorian announced his gaze riveted to his console.

Now came the hard part. They had the cloaked ships in firing range and directly ahead with the _Devil’s Trap_ having the advantage of coming from behind. But they couldn’t shoot what they couldn’t see. To their benefit was the fact that the Romulan ships couldn’t fire without decloaking first nor could they both cloak and have their shields raised at the same time. To their disadvantage…many of the Romulan ships could now cloak mid-battle and disappear from the _Devil’s Trap’s_ sensors long enough to gain a new position to fire upon them from.

Erin wanted to do this as covertly as possible but the dilemma was, they had to shoot to get the ships to decloak so they could fire on them properly. Which would immediately reveal the presence of a Federation ship invading the Vendor System. They had one shot at a surprise attack. The only option Erin had was to disable them as soon as possible so they could not warn the base (if there was a base) or call for reinforcements and then do the same to any other squadrons in the system. The only other choice was to blast the area the ships were in with a torpedo spread and destroy them before they knew what hit them, which was what the _Devil’s Trap_ was designed for, but Erin refused to kill ships full of people for something she didn’t know for certain was a threat.

“Fire a wide dispersal polaron shot on the cloaked ships’ position,” Erin commanded. “As soon as they uncloak to fire back, target their communications and weapons systems with the phasers. Hit them sooner if you can. Then worry about the engines.”

 “Yes, sir,” Dean said. Erin knew his hands were flying over the controls. Dean was a crack shot. If anyone could disable them out of the gate, it was Dean. Even if she was still angry with his stunt earlier (which she intended to have a chat with him about at the first opportunity), she trusted no one so much at those controls as her first officer. “Wide dispersal. Firing.”

A four beam wide arc of purple energy shot forward from the forward beam arrays and slammed into the invisible cloaked ships. For an instant, the ships’ cloaks faltered under the polaron assault and revealed them somewhat before they disappeared again. Just as Erin had intended. It had hopefully managed to drain the ships’ power at the same time but they wouldn’t be able to tell until they decloaked.

 The disruption to the Romulan vessels’ cloaks was enough for Dean to get a lock. “Switching to phasers. Locking targets,” Dean declared. “Firing.”

This time three orange beams fired, skewed to selected targets. They splashed against momentarily invisible targets and then the Romulan vessels decloaked, wavering out of the void of space to reveal three _T’Varo-Class_ Light Warbirds, their flat dishy bodies with the angled nacelles that looked like hooked featherless wings burning plasma green within.  The ships always reminded Erin of a throwing glaive and they could be just as deadly if you weren’t careful despite the frigates’ less powerful weapons complements because they always seemed to run in packs.

All three ships sported blackened marks and sparking areas on the hull. They’d managed to do more than just disable the ships communications.

“Direct hit on all three ships. Their communications systems are off line. Moderate damage to hulls,” Lorian relayed from his console.

“The Romulans are raising shields,” Talia declared.

“Target their weapons systems while their shields are still down!” Erin barked in full battle mode now. The Admiral became almost an afterthought.

“Attempting,” Dean said. The ships began to move, roused from their slow patrol around the system by the _Devil’s Trap’s_ attack. They were coming about. “Locking….” He fired without declaring it and lances of orange flew.

All hit but only one made through before their opponents could raise shields. The others dispersed with a flash on the Romulan Vessels’ shields.

“Weapons disabled on the second ship,” Dean announced.

“They are attempting to flank us, Captain,” Talia warned.

“Mr. Pril, give us some elbow room,” Erin commanded.

“Aye, Aye,” the Saurian replied even as he pulled the ship’s nose up and sent her arrowing over the top of the disabled Warbird. The remaining Warbirds  were left to maneuver so they could fire while the _Devil’s Trap_ curved back on its path at a higher angle keeping the Romulans out of their optimum firing arc and in the _Devil’s Trap’s_.

The first barrage of disruptor fire from the Romulans blazed green against their shields harmlessly. The ship trembled a bit on impact but nothing more.

“Shields are holding,” Lorian told them.

“Get their shields down and disable them,” Erin said. She was completely focused on the battle, her headache ignored in favor of the pin point accuracy battle required of her. But the feeling of dread built and her heart slammed in her chest.

The Admiral gripped her seat and made no comment on Erin’s tactics. Which was very good for her, if she had Erin would have hit her. It was unwise to contradict her in the middle of a fire fight.

“Firing polaron beams,” said Dean and again purple energy flowed between the _Devil’s Trap_ and the two Romulan ships. It impacted on the Romulans shields and disappeared at the same time that the Romulans let loose with another barrage of disruptor fire. This blast rattled the ship more than the last.

“Target shields at eighty percent,” Lorian relayed. “Our shields at ninety. “ He then turned in his chair to look back at the Captain. “May I suggest that a focused tachyon beam might be more effective.”

Erin nodded her assent and the Vulcan quickly turned around to do it.

“Dean, keep those Romulans busy for Mr. Lorian.” Erin said.

“Yes, sir,” he said from behind her and fired a volley of disruptor fire at them.  They fired back immediately attempting to move into a better position.

“Pril, keep them on their toes,” Erin ordered.

“I need the ship stationary to initiate the tachyon beam,” Lorian advised.

“Alright,” Erin said not at all disturbed by what some Captains would see as impertinence. It was simply the best option as Lorian saw it and Erin trusted her science officer’s training to prove that it was indeed the best option. “Move us into best firing range and hold us there instead Pril.”

The Saurian complied, bringing the ship level with the Romulan vessels so that all the _Devil’s Traps_ weapons were in line with their targets and held position.

“The Romulans are firing plasma torpedos,” sad Talia.

Dean fired on the torpedos without prompting, disintergrating both before they reached the _Devil’s Trap_ and then fired a retaliatory volley of polaron beams at the Romulans. The Romulans rocked but were otherwise undamaged.

“Targets’ shields at seventy percent,” Talia said. “The disabled vessel is attempting to flee.”

“Dean, stop them,” Erin ordered.

“More power to the deflector dish Commander Campbell,” Lorian demanded.

“Rerouting power from auxillary,” Sam confirmed., taking the needed power for the systems least needed at the moment.

Dean fired a volley of phaser fire at the ship that was attempting to get away trying to pierce through their shields to disable their engines. The first volley shook the target and the immediately following second volley scattered over the shields like an energized spiderweb.

“Second torpedo spread incoming,” Talia warned just as Dean fired a third time on the fleeing ship. The fleeing ship quaked but they hadn’t yet pierced their shields and Dean had to try to switch back to defensive from offensive, ignoring the runaway ship in favor of the spread of cyan burst plasma torpedos headed straight for them. They couldn’t move or Lorain couldn’t initiate the tachyon beam.

“Mr. Lorian,” Erin urged.

“A moment, Captain,” the Vulcan said calmly.

Dean took out four of the six torpedos but two still streaked inexorably for the _Devil’s Trap_.

“Brace for impact!” Erin called, holding onto her chair tightly as the torpedoes hit, exploding on impact in a wave of cyan fire. Law was all but thrown into the First officers chair by the impact. Everyone else was rocked violently sideways at their stations but they kept their seats.

“Damage report!” Erin barked.

“Port shield is down, negligible hull damage to decks seven and eight,” Sam replied.

“The Romulan ships are preparing to fire again,” Talia warned.

“Mr. Lorian….” Erin said drawing the Vulcan’s name out warningly. If he didn’t do what he was going to do they’d be blasted apart if they didn’t attack in return with their own torpedoes, which Erin was trying to avoid. She wanted to disable the Romulans, not kill them.

“Initiating tachyon beam now,” Lorian assured her and engaged the deflector dish. A wide cone of sparkling blue emanated from the fore deflector aimed at the center most Romulan vessel. It hit low and spread, eating the Romulan vessels shields like acid. Erin expected it to dissipate but instead the beam narrowed and struck the other vessel’s deflector dish then split like a laser beam off a mirror. The ricocheted tachyon beams struck the other two Romulan vessels and stripped both of their shields.

“All targets shields offline,” Talia declared.

Their shields might be down but they could still fire.

“Dean!” Erin commanded without having to tell him what she wanted. He already knew.  He responded by locking target and firing on all three ships at the same time. Two of the shots took out the attacking ships’ weapons systems and the third the fleeing ship’s engines. It ground to an abrupt halt as Commander Singer let a second targeted pulse of phaser fire fly, disabling the other two ships’ engines as well. Both shuddered to a stop.

“All enemy targets are dead in the water,” Talia announced triumphantly.

“Port shield is coming back online,” Sam added. “Auxiliary power reestablished.”

Erin breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t let show and looked down at her science officer. “Very clever,” she praised.

“Thank you, Captain. Though I do apologize for the delay in initiating the beam. The calculations to fracture it required slightly more time than a standard tachyon beam as well as additional power,” Lorian said humbly.

“Nevertheless, very clever,” Erin reiterated. The Vulcan inclined his head at the acknowledgement.

“Nice shooting as always, Dean,” Erin said.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Dean crooned in a sad imitation of the popular 20th century rock singer Elvis Presley. Erin snickered faintly as she touched the armrest control panel.

“Bridge to Engineering. Mary, you guys okay down there?”

“It’ll take more than a bumpy ride to rattle us, Captain.” The Chief Engineer’s voice came back. “Everything’s fine here.”

“Glad to hear it,” Erin said then switched the channel again. “Sickbay, report.”

Cass’s voice came back monotone as ever. “No casualties.” There was a tiny pause. “How are you?” He said it very carefully and Erin knew that he didn’t mean ‘you’ in the general sense. He meant her in particular.

“We’re just fine, Cass,” Erin said and closed the channel before he said anything that might give her away. She turned to Sam never noticing the way Lorian tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes flitting back and forth as though reading something on his console but focused inward instead of outward.

“How long before they can complete repairs?”

“Judging by the damage inflicted, not less than two hours,” Sam said.

“Very good,” Erin said pleased. “Keep us at red alert.” That had gone much better than expected. If they could pull off that kind of result throughout the mission they just might be able to accomplish this with no loss of life. “Excellent job, all of you.” She looked to Lorian. “Begin scanning for cloaked ships again.”

“Yes, Captain,” the science officer said and set to work.

“Janira,” Erin asked, “get anywhere with those decryptions yet?” The communications officer—who had steadily been working on it even during the firefight--shook her head.

“No, sir.”

“Keep trying,” Erin said, then looked down toward the helm. “Pril take us further in; keep us along the asteroid field for cover. Look for the facility that Mr. Lorian detected.”

“Yesss, sssir,” the helmsman hissed and eased the _Devil’s Trap_ forward.

“Law you might as well stay put. The chair’s better than the floor,” Erin joked weakly. The Romulan gave a harsh barking laugh.

“Impressive Captain. I see why Admiral T’Nae recommended you…but aren’t you going to destroy the Romulan vessels?” the Admiral asked serenely. It was disquieting to say the least and every nerve in Erin’s body twanged with alarm reminding her sharply that she had a splitting headache. That voice whispered somewhere in the back of her head unbidden. _‘Beware. Peril awaits you.’_

“Why would I do that? They can’t fight, they can’t run and they can’t call for help. They’re helpless and no longer a threat,” Erin asked with deceptive calm, belying the flood of anger that sprang to fiery renewed life inside her.

“Not right now but in two hours…” the Admiral said very reasonably.

Just as reasonably Erin said, “If we can’t pull this off in two hours, we can’t pull this off. I will not fire on a helpless vessel.”

The Admiral seemed to consider this for a long moment that confused Erin even as her headache increased another measure. Why would a Deltan, out of all the races in the galaxy, advocate for killing helpless people? They were empaths dedicated to non-violence and peace. They would feel anyone in their vicinity die. Erin knew there was something there that she should be grasping but her head was pounding so hard now that she could hear her blood thrumming in her veins, in time with her pounding heart. She refused to acknowledge it, to give in to a mundane headache.

“You’re right Captain. I don’t know what came over me,” the Admiral said and looked away with a faint expression of shame. Erin wondered at the Admiral’s sudden difference but Pril called her attention back to the situation at hand.

 “Captain, ssstation detected.”

Erin switched back to command mode so quickly it would give most people whiplash. “On screen.” She ignored the Admiral as if she weren’t there again.

Immediately the view screen zoomed in on an area further inside the asteroid belt, orbiting the second planet just as Lorian had said. It was half the size of Earth Space Dock, but was in the distinct Romulan style. It had an almost organic feel to it, like a huge, metallic gray-green space flower dotted with soft green dots for windows and lighter green markers. The station looked so innocuous for something that allegedly held weapons of mass destruction.

“Scan it,” Erin commanded promptly. It was Sam who jumped on the order in Lorian’s place while the Vulcan kept his attention on the tachyon detection grid for cloaked ships in the vicinity. It was terribly odd that they’d run into only three light war birds on patrol for such a supposedly dangerous and strategically significant base.

“Scanning,” Sam affirmed and they all waited with bated breath for the results. After what seemed like forever, Sam announced what he had found. “About 950 crew complement. Station is minimally armed for defense. No signs of unknown weaponry at this distance but I’d have to do a in depth scan to get past all the interference and they would detect it. Can’t tell what kind of offense they can put up from inside either.”

Erin frowned. That didn’t sound like any military weapons facility she’d ever heard of. It should be bristling with deadly bells and whistles. “Can you extrapolate a map from your current scan?”

“Yes, but it will be vague. I’ll have to input data from known configurations and have the computer estimate the layout,” Sam said.

“That’ll have to do,” Erin said.

Suddenly Lorian looked up from his console. “Ship decloaking at bearing 258, mark 010,” he warned a split second before the _Devil’s Trap_ was rocked by the unmistakable assault of disruptor cannons. Erin and the Admiral, who were still standing with nothing to hold onto, were thrown to the deck by the force of it.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Erin barked as she scrambled to get up. Lorian had said they had little chance of successfully detecting cloaked ships with the tachyon grid, they’d been lucky with the first batch. Their luck had run out.

The _Devil’s Trap_ tilted hard to starboard as Pril complied, pushing power to the engines for a burst of speed to get them out of range. Erin threw herself into the Captain’s chair, uncaring of how unladylike it looked and left the Admiral to find her own way off the deck.

“Visual!” Erin commanded as her ship whipped around to see what had fired on it. The view switched from the zoomed in image of the station to the space the _Devil’s Trap_ had just occupied. They’d been fired on by a _Mogai-Class_ Warbird and it was pursuing.

Looking like a smaller, more streamlined version of its cousin the _Scimitar-Class_ , the Mogai was for all intents and purposes meant to be the size and type equivalent of a Federation escort. The _Devil’s Trap_ was ostensibly called an escort so the Federation didn’t have to outright call it the warship that it was. The ship was armed well enough and had enough technological advantage to best a Mogai in battle but the Mogai was nothing to sniff at either.

Armed with disruptor cannons and turrets as well as beam arrays the Mogai could more than hold its own. Add to that the heavy plasma and photon torpedos it carried plus the twice-damned cloaked tractor beam mines it could deploy and you had the potential of having your shipped ripped in two even with your shields at full strength. Erin absolutely hated those damned tractor mines with a passion.

She had to act fast, before the Mogai caught up to them. “Launch transphasic mines, dispersal pattern beta! As soon as they hit, go in for a strafing run with a sustained polaron beam.”

“Deploying mines,” Dean confirmed from behind her as the Mogai gained on them, loosing a second barrage of cannon fire. The _Devil’s Trap_ shuddered under the assault.

There was no question of simply attempting to disable the Mogai. It was too well armed. Lorian’s tachyon beam trick wasn’t an option, they’d have to sit still and you did not sit still when facing a Mogai. You would make yourself a sitting duck.

Erin would stop short of destroying the ship if she could but she wouldn’t let them destroy the _Devil’s Trap_ either. The mines worked by auto targeting the alloys and metals of any ship not from the Federation. They would then chase the ship down and detonate on impact. The transphasic variety was in a constant state of phase making the chance that the mine would penetrate the enemy’s shield before detonation much higher, causing both kinetic damage to the ship itself and to the shields. A sustained polaron beam would further drain the Mogai’s shields.  She hoped to tear down the shields as fast as possible so she could disable them without having to destroy them before they destroyed the _Devil’s Trap_.

“Damage report!” Erin demanded as the mines streaked forward around the _Devil’s Trap_ , heading for the Mogai like space-born bullets.

“Shields are down to ninety percent. No hull damage,” Lorian announced.

The mines slammed into the Mogai, some exploded against the shields but half of them made it through the Romulan warbird’s shielding before detonating. Sparks flew from the vessel’s hull.

“Enemy’s shields are down to ninety five percent,” Talia declared as Pril took them in low over the Mogai for the strafing run. Dean fired and held the beam on them until they were out of their firing arc making the Mogai’s shields crackle green under the purple energy lance.

“Enemy shields down to eighty five percent,” Talia corrected after their assault. “Moderate hull damage.”

“Pril, take us back into the asteroid field. Dean, give them a reason to chase us. Lorian, see if you can’t jam their sensors,” Erin ordered. Her crew jumped at the command. It was a possibly risky maneuver but it was tactically sound. The _Devil’s Trap_ was more compact in design than the Mogai. It was long instead of wide and could navigate between the asteroids more easily than the broad Mogai. All Pril had to do was dodge gigantic rocks.

As the Saurian whipped the _Devil’s Trap_ around and headed back toward the asteroid field, Dean hit the Mogai with another sustained polaron beam, further draining the enemy’s shields as the Mogai retaliated with a rapid fire cannon shot. The barrage missed the mark but still hit. Lorian had managed to jam their sensors to some degree.

“Our shields holding at ninety percent. Enemy shields at eighty percent,” Talia relayed.

They plunged into the asteroid field and the Mogai followed. The ploy had worked.

“Mr. Lorian, you have any other bright ideas?” Erin asked as Pril took them skillfully deeper into the asteroid field, slipping between hulking space rocks with finesse.

“Not at this time, Captain,” Lorian said. “But I would advise retaliatory fire. The Romulans are preparing to launch torpedos.”

“Dean!” Erin said.

“On it!” Dean promised. Another series of transphasic mines flew from the aft of the _Devil’s Trap_ , locking target quickly with the Mogai baring down on them. They swarmed the Romulan vessel, some wasting their payload on asteroids in the way of their trajectory while others punched home through the target’s shields and detonated in the warbird’s face. The ‘beak’ of the ship crackled with energy as the kinetic damage impacted.

“Enemy shields at seventy five percent,” Talia announced.

The Warbird tilted to try to avoid the worst of the damage too late, one ‘wing’ slamming into an asteroid and scrapping hard against the ship’s already damaged shields.

“Their starboard shield is down!” Talia shouted.

“Target their communications and weapons systems and fire,” Erin barked.

“Target locked. Firing,” Dean said as he hit the Mogai with the _Devil’s Trap’s_ phaser beams with perfect accuracy. “Direct hits. Communications and weapons offline.”

“I am detecting multiple tachyon emission simultaneously. One is quite large,” Lorian inserted with a calm but would not be ignored tone.

“Can you locate them?” Erin asked.

“Negative Captain. There is too much distortion from the asteroid field’s radiation,” Lorian said. “All but the largest have disappeared from sensors.”

“Tractor beam mines,” Law noted. “They must have launched them before we could disable their weapons system.”

“Full stop!” Erin command sharply. They couldn’t afford to be caught by those cloaked mines.

The _Devil’s Trap_ halted so hard that it threw the bridge crew forward in their seats. The instant they did the source of the larger tachyon emission decloaked directly on top of them. Another Mogai, lying in wait.

“Fire at will!” Erin barked.

Dean heartily complied, sending a scatter volley of phaser beams at the new ship.

“Reading a massive energy surge from the enemy ship,” Lorian warned.

“Shit,” Erin exclaimed, she knew what that meant. “Evasive maneuvers!”

But the _Devil’s Trap_ couldn’t move fast enough in the asteroid field. There was a distinctive roar and then a plasma shockwave cascaded from the center of the Mogai, shoving asteroids in its wake and igniting them into burning hunks of green flame.

“Brace for impact!” Erin warned as the shockwave raced toward them far too fast to be avoided. The _Devil’s Trap_ was picked up by the shockwave, engulfed and hurtled away from the Mogai like a piece of driftwood on an ocean wave. The whole ship rattled and rocked as it careened through space, flaming asteroids ricocheting off the shields like hail. Everyone held on for dear life and suddenly the ship was jerked to a hard stop, groaning with effort.

“Disengage the engines!” Erin yelled. They’d been thrown into the tractor beam mines’ grasp. If they continued to try to move they’d rip the ship apart with no assistance from the Romulans.

Sam was punching holo-buttons his hands a blur as he did it almost before Erin had ordered it. The ship grew oddly quiet as the impulse and warp drives disengaged.

“Dean, get us loose,” Erin commanded. Through the view screen she could see they were caught in a triangle of three tractor mines unable to move in any direction and lambs to the slaughter if they didn’t get free right now.

“We’re losing shields!” Talia called. “Aft shield is off line.”

“Boosting the shield capacitor,” Lorian said, acting instantly.

“Hull integrity at ninety percent,” Talia called. Even the Vulcan couldn’t move as fast as the tractor beams that were trying to tear them apart.

“Auxiliary to the structural integrity field,” Erin said.

“Rerouting!” Sam assured her.

The _Devil’s Trap’s_ structure began screaming under the forces being exerted on it and without anyone telling her Erin knew the Mogai was coming for them.

“Mogai on an intercept course,” Lorian said as if to confirm what Erin already knew. “The disabled vessel is following as well.” Guess the other Mogai wanted to watch it’s comrade blow the _Devil’s Trap_ out of space.

Dean fired on one of the tractor mines, obliterating it. Some of the stress on the _Devil’s Trap_ eased but they were still tethered.

“Hurry up Dean!” Erin demanded.

“We’re still losing shields. Down to sixty percent. Aft shield still offline. Hull integrity holding at ninety percent,” Talia warned. Lorian’s boost to the shield capacitor was being negated by the tractor beams.

“The Mogai is locking weapons,” Lorian warned. Erin grimaced in irritation. They couldn’t fire back, not and stay in one piece. She had to do something that would help mitigate the damage they were about to take.

“Reverse the shield polarity!” Erin demanded and hit her control console, opening a channel to engineering. “Mary, I need more power up here.”

“Already in progress! Gimme two seconds!” the pert little red head said.

In exactly two seconds the whine of added power flooding in from the warp core could be heard and the _Devil’s Trap’s_ shields flared orange as the polarity reversed, warring with the tractor beams attempt to tear the ship apart and trying to heal itself by inverting the damage being done into energy for the shields.

At the same time, Dean picked off the second tractor mine and eased the stress on the _Devil’s Trap_ further. Now they hung by the proverbial thread, but what a thread it was.

 “Shields at seventy percent,” Talia called. Aft shield is still…” She never got to finish the sentence as Lorian declared loudly.

“Incoming torpedos!”

No sooner had he said it than the ship jerked hard in its binds, plasma torpedos tearing into the hull through the opening left by the offline aft shields. Erin held onto the Captain’s chair with all her might.

“Damage report!”

Law took up the call from the first officer’s chair. “Upper port nacelle offline. Minor hull damage. Plasma fires reported on decks 8 and 9, section F. Fire suppression fields already in place. Minor casualties coming in.”

Thank the Corps of Engineers for nuetronium alloy hull plating. It could take one hell of a beating. No serious casualties being reported. Erin counted herself lucky.

Dean ignored the report in favor of blasting the last tractor mine into nonexistence. “We’re free!” The ship lurched as it was let go but steadied quickly.

“Shields regaining power, aft shield back online,” Talia added. The instant they were free the shields were no longer being constantly drained by the tractor beams and they healed themselves. All hail covariant shielding.

“How long til they can fire again?” Erin asked anyone with an answer.

“They are readying another torpedo spread,” Lorian advised. “Five point two seconds until launch.”

“Dean, give them something to chew on,” Erin commanded. “Pril, reengage the engines and take us behind the largest asteroid you can find.” Erin was done with playing nice. She’d tried her hardest not to fight to destroy but the Romulans were pushing the issue and they were about to find out why the _Devil’s Trap_ was notorious throughout the Alpha Quadrant as a force to run away from very quickly.

“Yes sir!” Dean said anticipating what Erin was about to do from long acquaintance. Pril didn’t bother to reply he just acted, rapidly reengaging the engines and taking the _Devil’s Trap_ back into motion. They had lost a fractional amount of speed by losing the one nacelle for the time being but the _Devil’s Trap_ had a plethora of tricks up its sleeves. Fully sixty percent of its firepower was hidden until it went into multi-vector assault mode and the ship had retracted warp nacelles for all three sections that did not engage until the ship was separated and its maneuverability in such mode was astounding.

Pril curved them behind a suitably large asteroid without delay.

“The Mogai has lost target lock,” Lorian said. “But they are pursuing.”

Erin pounced on the tiny span of time she had. “Initiate multi-vector assault mode, Authorization Winchester-8-omega-epsilon-2,” she bit into the air. The computer responded immediately to her voice print.

“Acknowledged,” the computer said and the bridge lights added blue to it’s kaleidoscope. “Initiating decoupling sequence in… ten….nine…eight…”

The bridge crew hunkered down in their seats and held on. Now the ship was doing the job. The Admiral—whom Erin had all but forgotten existed in the heat of battle—looked both avidly fascinated, gleeful and alarmed at the same time.

“The Mogai is almost upon us Captain and the other ship is still following,” Lorian said sounding just a tad worried himself. Erin hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d never experienced the _Devil’s Trap_ in multi-vector assault mode either.  He’d trained for it in holodeck simulations certainly but it was one thing to run a simulation and another entirely to experience it firsthand.

“Let them come,” Erin said. “They want a show. We’ll give them one.”

“Seven….six….five…four… three… two… one. Separation sequence in progress.”

As the computer finished its count down the _Devil’s Trap_ split seamless into three hulls, primary, secondary, and tertiary. Essentially turning the _Devil’s Trap_ into three smaller heavily armed assault ships. This was why the ship had three warp cores. One for each section or combined to give the Devil’s Trap its awesome speed.

The tertiary hull was the upper most where the bridge was and there was a decompressing gasp as the nacelle embedded in the top of the hull deployed before it zipped up with amazing agility to take combat formation with its mates. The tertiary hull controlled the other two remotely giving the _Devil’s Trap_ the ability to be commanded by one person at need. Of course, it also had two battle bridges for the other two hulls, enabling the ship to be commanded by three smaller combat crews headed by the First and Second officers respectively but they didn’t have time to do that at the moment.

“Mogai closing at fifty kilometers,” Lorian advised.

“We are in attack formation. Each section is armed and responding to our commands,” Talia said.

“Computer, attack pattern Alpha,” Erin barked at the computer.

“Specify target,” the computer asked.

“Mogai Warbird,” Erin said and looked down at her control console, “Bearing 301, mark 000.”

“Pattern and target confirmed,” the computer answered.

“Enemy closing at fifteen kilometers,” Lorian relayed as the _Devil’s Trap_ , split into three, rose out from behind the asteroid at the computer’s prompting like an annoyed tri-headed dragon that had been prodded one too many times by puny knights with blunted spears. It was as fearsome a sight as it sounded, it was meant to be. Erin could have done this from the moment they entered the system and decimated any ships they encountered but she refused to whole-sale slaughter anyone.

They came out from behind the asteroid directly in the Mogai’s path, its defenseless mate following in its wake. They didn’t slow down.

“Computer, hold fire and position,” Erin demanded.

“Acknowledged,” the computer said and the space-faring dragon paused in motion it’s lethal heads menacingly waiting to strike.

Erin didn’t want to destroy them if she didn’t absolutely have to. They’d already revealed themselves, the fact that a Federation ship had hostilely invaded Romulan space wasn’t even in question and the Romulans had every right to defend themselves against it. It was no longer a matter of if they might have committed an act of war, it was a matter of how big of one it was going to be. Disabling ships but not destroying them was as close as Erin could come to diplomacy on this mission.

She already knew she was fried if they survived it. Erin had an instant to wonder if they might forego the traditional mind re-programming at a maximum security prison facility and just reinstitute the death penalty for a grievous act of war. Erin thought she might prefer it to having her brain wiped and turned into someone else. Then again if this was authorized by Starfleet and they lived… Starfleet might pin another medal on her chest. Erin thought that might be worst of all and it rankled her to no end.

“Janira, open a channel to the enemy ship,” Erin ordered.

She felt nauseous at the thought of what she might have to do if the Romulans wouldn’t back down. She felt that insidious anger and dread pulse like poison in her veins and she became acutely aware again of her damn unabating headache. Erin didn’t understand why she still had it. With the flood of adrenalin coursing through her and the analgesic Cass had given her, she shouldn’t have had a headache in the first place.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” the Trill responded. “Channel open.”

“This is Captain Erin Winchester of the Federation starship _Devil’s Trap_. As you can see, you are outgunned and outmaneuvered. Until now, I have played fair. I could have blasted you into space dust at any time if I chose but if you attack again, I will be forced to destroy you. Stand down your weapons. I don’t want bloodshed,” Erin said into the open channel between ships. “But if you test me…you will fail.”

Lorian looked back at her and raised one slim brow before turning back to his station. Erin couldn’t discern what he thought of all this. Probably that this entire thing was illogical and unethical. If so, Erin agreed with him but they were between a rock and a hard spot. There was a beat of silence as they waited for a response and Erin looked at Janira. The communications officer shook her head.

“They aren’t responding Captain.”

“Yes they are!” Sam declared sharply.

“Torpedoes incoming. Full spread,” Talia confirmed.

“Damn it,” Erin cursed softly and shut her eyes for an instant against the knowledge of what she must do. “Computer, resume attack.”

“Acknowledged,” the computer said soullessly then with substantial agility and speed the separated _Devil’s Trap_ threaded around and between asteroids with ease and fired on both the ship and the torpedoes while the bridge crew watched. It was over in seconds.

The computer computed the yield needed to destroy its target and lobbed a bevy of plasma beams and photon and tri-cobalt torpedoes. The weapons ripped through the Romulan Mogai like a rock through paper and the ship exploded. The helpless ship reversed course to pull away before it too was destroyed but it was useless. As the _Devil’s Trap_ sprinted out of range the secondary explosion as the Mogai’s singularity core breeched sent out a shockwave that obliterated the second ship as well.

Erin winced, regretfully. She’d done what she had to. Hadn’t she? But she still mourned the loss of lives. She always did.

“There’s your Romulan _passion_ in action Captain,” the Admiral said. It was the first time she’d spoken during the entire battle and she sounded terribly smug, unaffected by the destruction of both ships.

Erin ignored her. “Pril, begin reintegration procedures.”

“Yesss, sssir,” the Saurian said, his voice subdued as he set to work. It wouldn’t take long to realign the sections and rejoin the ship as a whole.

“They fought and died with honor. As did we. Both sides fought for what they believed in. That is honorable,” Law said with unveiled bitterness in response to the Admiral’s insult.

The Admiral chuckled darkly and then looked past Erin to glare disdainfully at the Romulan Lieutenant. “Why are you serving on a Starfleet vessel? You’re a traitor to your own people obviously but what possible honor could there be in serving your enemy?”

“Honor,” Erin scoffed. “All I see is space debris where two ships carrying 950 people apiece used to be. There is nothing honorable in that.” She looked down toward the science station. “Mr. Lorian scan for any other ships.” The Vulcan nodded obediently.

The Admiral snorted. “Your compassion for your enemy is why you lost the thalaron triggers to the Remans in the Nimbus system. You can’t even set it aside to properly hate the man who killed your mother.”

There were several askance glances in their direction and more than a few muttered whispers. Very few knew that Nero had killed Erin’s mother. It was in her records and publically accessible if you wanted to bother connecting the dots and dig far enough but who on her crew would feel the need?

Erin tensed visibly at the barb. She had lost the thalaron triggers to the Reman ship she’d helped to escape believing at the time they were only another of the oppressed pirate ships being controlled by the Orion Syndicate. She had had no reason to believe they had the triggers in their possession at the time. All evidence had pointed at Hakeev—a prominent member of the Tal Shiar--who it seemed, had purchased them from Hassan, then boss of Nimbus III via the Orion Syndicate.

Nevertheless, Erin was well aware of the implications the loss of the thalaron triggers presented. Despite that, Erin didn’t regret her decision to free the citizens of Nimbus III from the tyranny of the Orion Syndicate for even a moment and neither had Starfleet. The slight about Erin’s mother was entirely uncalled for. Coming after her nightmare last night it was deeply disturbing.

Erin ignored the Admiral’s attempt to provoke her and attended to her duties instead.

“Dean, get me estimates on repairs.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said and stepped away from the tactical console to do it. He wisely said nothing about the Admiral’s insult in front of the crew.

“Sam, get started on that map of the station.”

“Inputting necessary data now,” Sam confirmed. He too said nothing about the insult. Of the bridge crew, only Dean and Sam knew about Erin’s mother. The only other who knew was Cass. The three of them had attended the Academy together and it was then that they had learned about it.

“Janira, get anywhere with those encryptions?”

“Not yet Captain. They are using a very sophisticated encryption. I’ve only broken the first three levels, there are still another two.”

“Keep at it,” Erin said disappointedly. “Mr. Lorian, the results of your scans?”

“No ships detected, Captain. While it is highly possible we would not detect a cloaked ship as we just witnessed, I would estimate the probability of there being any other enemy ships in the system at five point three percent. The destruction of the Mogai vessels could hardly have gone unnoticed otherwise,” the Vulcan answered.

“Understood,” Erin said.

“Reintegration complete,” Pril announced and Erin blinked in surprise. She was so involved with her own inner turmoil she hadn’t noticed that the ship had become whole again.

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Erin said. “Put us on approach to the station.” The Saurian nodded again and began inputting the course change.

“Engineering estimates repair time at one hour,” Dean put in having completed his task.

“Tell Mary to put everyone she’s got on it. I want it done faster if possible. We can’t afford to be at less than a hundred percent for any longer than necessary,” Erin ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said.

“Sam, how long is that map going to take?”

“Fifteen minutes give or take,” Sam said.

“Alright,” Erin said and rose from her chair. “I’ll be in my Ready Room planning the away team. Notify me as soon as it’s done.”

Erin didn’t need to adjourn to her Ready Room to plan the team. She knew who she would take already. What she needed was a moment to herself, a moment to get a grip. Her head hurt terribly, her heart was still racing and she felt like she might come unglued if anything else happened before she’d had a second to get a handle on herself. The anger and dread inside her had built to a fever pitch.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said as Erin started to move toward her Ready Room.

“Dean, you have the bridge.”  Then she paused and looked directly at the Admiral. “And if my compassion is a flaw, then so be it. Nobody’s perfect. I’d rather be a flawed compassionate human than a cold-blooded monster who has no sympathy for anyone but themselves. And I will thank you to _never_ mention my mother again.”  With that she left the bridge for her Ready Room without looking back.

Behind her, Law looked at the Admiral. “You asked why I would serve my enemy.” He motioned with his chin in the direction Erin had gone. “That is why. I don’t serve Starfleet. I serve her. That Captain Winchester happens to be in Starfleet is only a happy coincidence. That is my _mnhei’sahe_.”

The Admiral scowled deeply at the Romulan’s comment but held her tongue as Dean took the Captain’s chair without a word. None of them noticed the way the Vulcan Science Officer’s gaze had drifted to linger on the Ready Room door or the way his eyes glittered with unveiled solemn curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	8. Chapter 8

Erin kept it together until the doors shut behind her and then she all but fell down into her desk chair, trembling all over and her head screaming with pain. She could hear her heart beat thudding in her ears again like a frantic drum and she was so angry she wanted to punch a hole in the wall. And as always that sinking dread lay like a rock in her stomach.

She put her head down on the desk and manually keyed a private channel to sickbay.

“Cass, can you be spared a minute?” she said not bothering to raise her head. The desk was cool, she’d just keep it there a moment.

He didn’t answer her question instead he said, “Where are you?”

“My Ready Room,” Erin replied.

“I’ll be right there,” Cass said with a note of tight worry in his voice and then closed the channel between them.

Erin took a deep breath and tried to regain her normal calm but it wouldn’t come. Something about this just didn’t make sense and she couldn’t figure out why nor could she understand why it was literally making her sick to her stomach. Her head hurt too much to ferret it out.

Why did the Admiral feel the need to keep picking at the scabbed wound of her mother’s death? It didn’t make sense. Why did she keep hurling even the tiniest of Erin’s ‘failures’ back at her? To make her doubt herself? What for? It wouldn’t work. Was she just angry that Erin had dared to stand up to her?

Those fools. Why hadn’t they just powered down their weapons? Why had they had to be so damn Romulan about it? Nobody needed to die. 1900 people dead for what? To prove they weren’t afraid of the Federation?

God this was a disaster. There was no way of getting out of their involvement being known now. There was no way out of this but through.

Erin didn’t know if the Romulans hadn’t surrendered because they were merely being stubborn and rightfully protecting themselves from an invading Federation warship or if they had fought so hard because the Admiral was right and they were hiding something. But why then was the station so minorly defended both in weapons and security patrols? A few T’Varo and Mogai Warbirds hardly seemed sufficient to protect a base that allegedly had such military significance to the Romulan Star Empire.

She swore the answer floated just out of her reach but every time she thought she could get a handle on it her head would radiate with pain again and she’d lose it. So she gave up. There was no other option now but to complete the mission no matter what the answer was.

The doors to her Ready Room swished open and Erin abruptly sat up and deigned to look like nothing was wrong. They swished shut again behind Cass, his smock coat pockets heavy with whatever he’d brought with him. In his usual fashion he hadn’t bothered with the door bell, he’d overridden it from the control panel and come in. He hadn’t brought his medkit thankfully otherwise everyone would have known something was wrong.

“Don’t bother,” Cass said. “It’s just me.”

Erin relaxed marginally letting herself slump a little in her chair but she didn’t put her head back down. “How bad are the casualties?” she asked as Cass made his way over to the desk to stand beside her. He dug in his pockets for his tricorder and started scanning immediately.

“Few sprains, bumps, bruises and cracked heads from the jostling we took. Lieutenant Gilbert broke her arm when she fell but she’ll be fine in a few hours,” he said his expression dower. He shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me. Your first thought is for the crew but you never have a thought for yourself.”

“Are you saying I’m being reckless?” Erin asked with a hint of dark amusement.

“If you don’t like ‘reckless’ I could use ‘insouciant’, maybe.”

“Cass, don’t start,” Erin pleaded. “We’ve talked about this. Just give me something for this damn headache and whatever it was that made me not feel like I’m about to vibrate into individual molecules so I can function. I have an away mission to lead.”

Cass lowered the tricorder and his hand scanner then shook his head again as he touched buttons on the tricorder and scowled over the readings. “You’re burning through everything I give you at an exponential rate.” He switched the tricorder for a hypospray and keyed it for a dosage of something which he then gave her without explaining it. Erin didn’t bother to complain about it.

“Never seen anything like it. All this combat is accelerating it. There’s an increasing imbalance of bodily functions. It’s minor right now but… you are literally burning yourself out. Your mind’s sharper than ever but your cardiovascular system and your central nervous system are beginning to degrade.”  He programmed the hypospray for something else and administered it. Erin let him without argument. Cass stuffed the hypospray back in his pocket and frowned mournfully. “You’re dying Erin and I don’t know why. If we weren’t in the middle of the mission from hell, if I had time to run test I’m sure I could…”

Erin swallowed once and nodded. “But you don’t.” She supposed that might be better than life in a prison facility. She could not deal with this right now. Not didn’t want to, couldn’t. She had to stay together long enough to get her crew out of this. “How long?”

“At this rate…a day at the most,” Cass said. He never was one to mince words. He told it flat out even if it was harsh.

“Can you mitigate the effects?” Erin asked.

“What I gave you will hold you together until you get back,” Cass said.

“Good,” Erin said. She chuckled darkly and then sighed. “I wish I was sprawled in the sun on the cliffs over Havasu Falls with nothing but a picnic basket, a good horse and no responsibilities. Why me? I look around that bridge, and I see my crew waiting for me to make the next move. But Cass, what if I'm wrong?” 

“Erin, I…” Cass started.

“No. It’s okay. I didn’t really expect an answer. It was rhetorical,” Erin hastened to say, to spare him the awkwardness of trying to come up with an answer that he didn’t have. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud anyway. “I have to get going,” she said rising from her desk and heading for the door, the bridge and the mission before her for good or ill.

“But I have one,” Cass insisted, laying his hand on her shoulder as she passed.

Erin blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to have one. The finer points of social interaction escaped Cass the way water escaped a sieve.

“I know I don’t understand most of the insignificant things the rest of you consider important. I know I’m not socially acceptable most of the time because of it. But I do know one thing. In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all of the universe, three trillion galaxies like this. In all of that, and perhaps more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Captain Erin Winchester.”

In the seven years they’d known each other, in the six they’d served together, Doctor Castiel Novak had never once called Erin by her rank. She didn’t know what to say so Erin laid her hand over the one that Cass had on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze then favored him with a wan smile. He looked at her very directly then and his large puppy dog brown eyes were very soulful. A whole conversation passed between them unspoken then. In the end, he looked down and away and Erin took her leave of him and the Ready Room.

 

***

 

As Captain Winchester walked back out onto the bridge, excruciating headache and all, she was once again commanding officer of a starship and not the angry, frightened woman who’d had a moment of weakness in her Ready Room. She put Cass’ warning that she was dying from her mind and focused on here and now, trying very hard to ignore the gnawing anger and dread that ate at her.

At least her heart rate seemed to have leveled off at a fast thud instead of an erratic gallop and her breathing was relatively normal but what Cass had given her seemed to do nothing for the headache at all.

The socially inept doctor slipped out behind her and headed for the turbolift without a word, disappearing to the relative solitude of sickbay again, as Erin called. “Status.”

“We are in posssition, Captain,” Pril hissed. The view screen showed them in synchronous orbit around the Romulan station, the _Devil’s Trap’s_ path seemingly tethered to it by an invisible string.

“Still haven’t gotten anywhere with those communications. Broke another level though,” Janira said sounding decidedly frustrated. Erin imagined she was. The Trill communications officer was superb at her job and to be flummoxed for this long would grate on the pretty woman’s ego—three hundred year old symbiot’s wisdom or not.

“Keep trying,” Erin encouraged. Janira nodded once and returned to doing just that. “Mr. Lorian?”

“No cloaked ships have been detected,” the Vulcan replied promptly.

“Dean?”

“Repairs underway and on schedule,” her First Officer said.

“Sam, have you got that map done?” Erin asked.

“Yes, sir. Entered into the computer and sending it to the transporter room now,” Sam said as his fingers finished sliding over holo-buttons.

“Good,” Erin said, “You’re with me. Dean, Talia, Mr. Lorian, you too.” It was risky to take her most senior officers on this away mission but it was a double-edged sword. She needed the best she had and they were it. The outcome of this mission was too important to take anyone less than the best and Erin had full confidence in the rest of her crew to keep the ship in one piece until they got back…if they got back. She looked at the Admiral who was all but lounging in the command chair next to Dean, her pert nose in the air at the rest of them. “I assume you’re coming, Admiral?” she asked as the others rose from their stations and moved to join their captain.

“Of course,” the Deltan said and got up.

“Of course,” Erin muttered under her breath through gritted teeth then added in a normal voice. “Law, retake your station.”

“Captain, I respectfully request permission to go with you,” Law said standing up and looking very militant. Erin half expected him to salute.

“Denied, Lieutenant. I need you on the bridge in case the Romulans decide they want to go for Round Two,” Erin said. She understood his desire but he was best utilized here were his tactical expertise—second only to Erin and Dean’s--could be the difference between destruction and survival for the _Devil’s Trap_.  He looked disappointed but he nodded neatly.

“Yes, sir.”

The Admiral scowled but didn’t argue the decision. It seemed she’d decided there were some things not worth arguing with Erin over.

“Janira, you have the bridge,” Erin said and headed for the turbolift with her crew and the Admiral at her back. As the highest-ranking officer on the bridge not going on the away mission, command automatically fell to the Trill until Erin got back and effectively made Chief Engineer Harvelle the acting First Officer.

“Captain,” Lorian said as they crowded into the turbolift, the doors shut and Dean gave the turbolift orders to take them to the armory. “Is it wise to take all of us on this away mission? Especially yourself? If the _Devil’s Trap_ is…”

“Janira and Law can handle it. I need my best men on this,” Erin said as the turbolift zoomed down one level and then sideways. “We know what to expect up here. We don’t know what to expect down there.”

The Vulcan arched a brow and moved his head in what might have been mild exasperation. “I would cite regulation but I suspect you would simply ignore it.”

Erin actually grinned at that and looked over at her Science Officer. “See Mr. Lorian? We’re getting to know each other.”

Lorian arched that brow a little higher and seemed to think about that but he made no reply as the turbolift halted to spit them out directly in front of the armory.  As everyone but Erin got off the turbolift, Dean said with a snicker, “Erin hasn’t missed an away mission since they gave her command of a ship.”

“Indeed,” Lorian replied. Both men looked back at the turbolift expectantly for Erin to join them. She didn’t.

 “Suit up, full combat gear and meet me in Transporter Room One in fifteen minutes,” she ordered.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked in surprise.

“To take care of something,” Erin said and hit the control panel to close the door before anyone, especially the Admiral, could object. The door whooshed shut leaving Commander Lorian and Commander Singer looking at each other in confusion.

 

***

Twelve minutes later, Erin strode down the corridor of deck 4 heading for the transporter room with a determined stride. She was dressed as she’d ordered the others to, in full polyalloy weave body armor that offered a high level of physical protection but was flexible and articulated enough to move like clothing from neck to toe. It was primarily a metallic satiny red due to the polyalloy woven in to the otherwise charcoal black material and fit snuggly. The red color was more a bit of vanity on Starfleet’s part than anything else. The body armor came in all division colors and was issued accordingly. But Erin had to admit it was rather imposing looking.

Low on her hips rode a silver toned articulated weapons and equipment belt that housed the holder for the standard away team tricorder, a holster for her compression phaser pistol, a tiny basic medkit and the fist sized generator for a standard personal shield.  In addition to the standard combat gear, the Captain wore a simple black body harness that crossed in an X over her chest and again across the spine to hold a sheath that contained her Tsunkatse Falchion.

A wicked looking weapon the blade was forged of tritanium and the edge was sharp enough to split hairs. Instead of having a smooth edge, it was asymmetrical, a triangular portion removed near the middle with vicious hooked tabs almost closing the gap meant to capture an opponent’s weapon and disarm them or to rip flesh as the blade was withdrawn from the opponent’s body.  It was a savage weapon and meant to show it but Erin knew from experience that not everything they encountered was affected by phaser fire and something drove her to take it with her after she’d absconded from the team long enough to hasten to her quarters to record a very brief Captain’s log. One detailing what had happened, her reservations and her lack of choice in the matter in the most concise terms possible.

It was the last thing she could do that might spare her crew prosecution if they survived to return to Federation space and this went horribly wrong. A feeling that Erin felt the possibility of greatly increasing with every passing moment. The voice of her other dream self was screaming at her now, ‘ _Beware. Peril awaits you_ ,’ so loudly that it almost drowned out the mind numbing headache. But Erin didn’t have time for dream haunts and silly childish nightmares. She had a job to do and she would do it… no matter what.

As she turned a corner she saw Lorian and Dean making their way to the transporter room ahead of her and she broke from a brisk walk into a light jog to catch up to them. Both of them were in their gear and armed.  Dean matched Erin in command red but Lorian wore science blue. The satiny metal was the exact same shade as his eyes and made them stand out more starkly than ever.

“Where are the others?” she asked as she came even with them.

“They went on ahead,” Dean said. Lorian was eyeing Erin’s sword speculatively.

“And you two lagged behind to do what? Conspire to commit mutiny again?” Erin said before she could stop herself. Dean looked like she’d slapped him. Both of Lorian’s brows went up but he remained as implacable as always. She would have preferred to reprimand Dean in private but she’d already said it and she might not ever get another chance. She winced and shook her head at him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erin bit anger bubbling over despite her desire to remain calm about this. There was just too much of it for her to control adequately. She looked at Lorian as well. “And you. You’re a _Vulcan_. How’d he talk you into it?”

“I was _thinking_ that I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life in a prison facility for doing the right thing!” Dean spat back incredulously.

“At the time it seemed the most logical course of action,” Lorian said calmly. “However, when I realized what you intended to do and Commander Singer failed to heed my subtle warning to desist it would have weakened your position if I had been the only member of the crew to stand apart.”

“Excuse me? Logic had nothing to do with it you pointy eared bastard and you know it,” Dean growled at the Vulcan.

“’Pointy eared bastard’? Is that meant as a derogatory reference?” Lorian asked.

“Yes!” Dean snarled.

“While I do indeed have pointed ears—which I fail to understand in what manner I should find embarrassing--I assure you I was not born out of wedlock. Therefore your insult is not only ineffective and inaccurate, it is most illogical.”

“You listen to me you green blooded son of a …” Dean began to rail.

“Had I rejected your efforts to persuade me would it have prevented you from proceeding with your plan?” Lorian asked without batting a lash at Dean’s degrading remarks.

“Of course it wouldn’t have. I’m not a….” Dean began again.

“Then logically, I had little choice but to acquiesce or risk weakening the Captain’s position.”

Dean set his jaw and his face began to turn scarlet with fury at the Vulcan.

“Stop it. Both of you,” Erin barked. They’d come to a halt in the corridor and though no one else was around she was still not going to tolerate this kind of behavior. “You’re both arguing like children.”

“You are right. I apologize Captain,” Lorian said immediately. Dean simply stood there and fumed.

Erin shook her head at him and frowned sadly. “I had her Dean. I had her. You are smarter than this. You are one of the best tacticians I’ve ever known. Why would you do something so stupid?”

“If I had known what you were planning…” Dean argued.  Erin scowled.

“I’m the Captain. Not you. I do not have to quantify myself to you or anyone else onboard this ship. I gave you an order. You disobeyed it. Worse you convinced the others to disobey as well. You shouldn’t have been planning anything,” Erin snapped viciously. “If you had just trusted me I could have contacted Admiral Quinn. We’d know if this was a legitimate mission. We might not even be here.”

“And you would be court-martialed and sent to a prison facility for the rest of your life where they wipe your mind and reprogram it to be a good docile citizen! I couldn’t let you do it!” Dean shot back.

Erin flashed back to that moment last night in the turbolift. The way he’d almost stepped over their mutually agreed upon line and tried to kiss her. The almost despondent way he’d seemed desperate to convince her to reconsider. She should have guessed he’d pull something like this. She should have known. But he’d never before doubted her judgment.

“Yes! But it would have been only me! Now it will be all of us. Damn it Dean, this is why you will never make Captain. You can’t let go. You can’t make the hard decisions. Every one of us knows what we might be called to do in the line of duty from the day we put on the uniform. All of us are expendable under the right circumstances and you can’t accept that. I was doing my job. It’s my life and my decision. I knew what I was choosing. I’m not more important than anyone else on this ship. You had no right to interfere!”

“You know as well as I do it wouldn’t have mattered. Admiral Zelle would never have let you make that call to Admiral Quinn. She’d have stopped you by force if she had to, relieved you of command and done this anyway. Then we’d be here without our Captain,” Dean said.

“Commander Singer does have a point Captain,” Lorian put in. Dean scowled at him incredulously.

“ _Now_ you agree with me?”

“Yes,” Lorian said very simply.

“Don’t do that. It makes me very uncomfortable,” Dean said.

Lorian looked at him with a thoroughly confused expression. “As you wish, Commander.”

Erin gritted her teeth in anger and then sighed heavily. Dean did have a point and Lorian had a point that Dean had a point. She was terribly proud of him and his unswerving loyalty, of all their loyalty. But she was still angry about what Dean had done. “Fine,” Erin relented. “Just tell me why, Dean. You have never _not_ trusted my judgment. Why now?”

Lorian opened his mouth to say something about Erin using a double negative and then wisely shut it. Dean however looked like he was suddenly tearing himself apart to answer the question which sufficed to draw Lorian’s attention away from Erin’s grammar to him with curiosity.

“Because I….” Dean started to spit out but a sharp lancet of pain shot through Erin’s temple and she winced with a small moan of pain as her hand went instinctively to her head, stumbling a pace.

Both Dean and Lorian reached forward to grab her shoulders with concern she might fall.

“Erin?” Dean asked alarmed.

“Are you unwell, Captain?” Lorian asked.

Erin batted them both away, harshly reminded that the clock was ticking on the mission and on her lifespan. “I’m fine. It’s just a stress headache. Working with him,” she waved at her first officer idly, “Would give anyone a headache.”

Lorian canted his head slightly in what looked like agreement, his arms going to rest behind his back. Dean looked down guiltily.

“Come on, we don’t have time for this,” Erin said pushing the argument aside, she turned and headed back down the corridor with Lorian and Dean at her heels. She didn’t notice the way Lorian was the last to fall in step or the way he contemplated her with almost perplexed concern as he did so. As if he knew something but was unsure if he was correct…or thought it impossible.

“If we survive this….remind me to give you both commendations for loyalty and valor,” Erin said as they went.

“That is most gracious of you, Captain,” Lorian said.

“Then remind me to charge you with insubordination.”

Lorian had no response at all for that. Dean however, chuckled faintly.

Erin shook her head. “This doesn’t make sense. The station isn’t armed to defend itself. There aren’t enough patrol ships around. There isn’t enough traffic in and out of the system. Something is _wrong_ and I can’t figure out what.”

“Then call it off,” Dean said.

“I can’t. We’re in too deep now and I can’t risk that those subspace weapons exist. The only way out now is through. But… I have a very bad feeling about this,” Erin said as they reached the transporter room and entered. Lorian looked deeply contemplative about her statements until Erin stopped so short at the sight before her that he and Dean both nearly ran into her.

It wasn’t the sight of Sam or Talia, who were both in their division colored combat gear and armed appropriately. It wasn’t Lieutenant Chuigaia, the transporter chief, with her nose-ring breathing apparatus. It was the Admiral, sans armor or weaponry.

“Where’s your armor?” Erin asked.

“I tried to tell her but she won’t have it,” Sam said.

“She wouldn’t listen to either of us,” Talia agreed.

Erin paused to look between them all, to take a deep breath and to try to comprehend the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “So let me get this straight. You want to beam down to a mysterious Romulan base manned by nearly two thousand Romulans—who are going to be seriously pissed off to see us—to destroy the subspace weapons of mass destruction they allegedly have…with no personal shield, no armor and no weapon?”

“I am Deltan, Captain Winchester,” the Admiral said serenely. “We abhor violence.”

Erin thought of a million things to say to that, most not becoming an officer, all containing the fact she didn’t seem to have a problem having someone else commit violence at her behest and finally decided on. “Okay then.”

“Captain?” Lorian said taken aback-albeit in that calm manner of his. Dean was trying not to laugh. “Admiral, I must strongly protest,” Lorian insisted. Then he looked back at Erin, “Captain, regulations clearly state…”

“I’m well aware of what regulations state Mr. Lorian but I have neither the time nor the inclination to argue with the Admiral,” Erin said shortly. She looked at Admiral Zelle with unveiled contempt. “Besides, who am I to question the decision of a superior officer? If the Admiral wants to get herself killed, so be it.”

The Vulcan absorbed that and then nodded. The Admiral gave Erin her best smug smile. Erin ignored her and instead looked to her crew.

“Lieutenant Chuigaia, do you have the map and coordinates Commander Campbell transferred?” Erin asked.

“Yes, sir,” the Benzite Transporter Chief said. “I’ve already linked your tricorders in as well.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Erin said and then turned to the others. “We have exactly one hour before the Romulans have their communications system repaired. At which point they will call for reinforcements. We can’t be here when they do. That means we have exactly one hour to get in, find the subspace weapons, destroy them and get out. Understood?”

There was a collective nod of acknowledgment from the crew, then Erin turned to the transporter console and keyed the communications system to give the command she knew she had to give. “Commander Triven,” she said very seriously, “Keep an open comlink at all times and remember…we are here under Code 47 protocol with Article 14 invoked. Whatever happens…if the Romulans manage to repair their communications system before the away team can complete our mission and call for reinforcements, under no circumstances are you to endanger the ship and its crew to retrieve us. Do not attempt rescue. You turn tail and haul ass. That is an order.”

There was a moment of heavy stillness then. In the transporter room and--heard through the eerie quiet of the comm channel--on the bridge. Then tightly but without protest Janira said, “Yes, sir.”

“Otherwise, we’ll contact the _Devil’s Trap_ when we’re ready to beam up,” Erin added.

“Good luck,” Janira said.

Erin released the channel and the away team moved to fill the transporter pad forming into what would drop them into a back to back defensive formation upon transport as Lieutenant Chuigaia began working the controls to prep them for beam down.

“Captain,” Lorain said.

“Yes, Mr. Lorian?”

“You are taking a sword as a secondary weapon?” the Vulcan asked eyeing the sheath on Erin’s back.

“Not everything responds to phaser fire,” Erin said.

“Expecting the unexpected?” Lorian asked.

“Always,” Erin said.

“Okay, if there’s any common sense in the design of the Romulan station, I should be putting you somewhere in the cargo bay on the research and design level. Shouldn’t be a soul in sight,” Lieutenant Chuigaia announced.

“Just as long as we don’t materialize in a bulkhead,” Dean muttered.

Erin shared a look with each of her officers and then there was a cascade of clicking whines as all phasers were charged and loaded. “Everybody try not to die,” Erin said then she looked to the transporter chief. “Energize.”  

The Benzite nodded once solemnly and slid the controls. As the transporter beams seized them, Erin heard the damnable voice of her dream self cry almost piteously, ‘ _Beware. Peril awaits you.’_ Captain Winchester hoped fervently it was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	9. Chapter 9

The away team materialized in large utilitarian space scattered with crates, barrels, containers, hydraulic lifts and anti-grav sleds.  Though pragmatic, the room’s design featured an angular abstract motif on its tritanium walls. There was no mistaking that it was a cargo bay or that it was Romulan. At least one thing had gone according to plan on this mission.

As Erin got a glimpse around their surroundings and everyone got their bearings, the Captain felt an almost overwhelming sense of wariness that had her raising her hand half way to her com badge to demand beam up before she could stop herself. No one noticed as the team automatically fell in and began standard landing party protocols. Chastising herself harshly for what she perceived as a bout of cowardice, Erin pulled her hand back as tricorders whirred and the station’s fusion reactor hummed like a large sleepy hornet. Dean, Sam and Talia dropped into defensive positions around the group, watching the only visible door.

As Science Officer Lorian had the lead for the moment. He consulted his tricorder, his phaser still in his other hand and finally said in a near whisper, “Multiple life form readings at twenty meters. All Romulan. Commander Campbell’s map is within an acceptable margin of error. It should suffice.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam whispered back. To which Lorian did not reply.

“Then we’re clear for the moment. Talia, Dean you keep watch on the door,” Erin said, “We’ll scan the containers in here before we try moving on.”  She looked at the Admiral in her neat uniform and terribly exposed body. “You stay back. I’d hate to have to tell Starfleet its first Deltan Admiral got shot like an unarmed civilian.”

The Admiral went rigid but she complied, stepping out of the way behind one of the crates, out of the line of fire should a gaggle of Romulans come through it. Erin pulled her own tricorder out and with Sam and Lorian proceeded to scan the plethora of containers the cargo bay contained looking for any hint of the alleged subspace weapons and keeping a close eye on the progression of time.

A few minutes later the three of them were back in the center of the room conferring about their findings. “Anything?” Erin asked.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Just standard supplies for any starbase.” Erin looked at her science officer but he shook his head as well.

“I must agree. I have not found anything of a dubious nature. Nor anything that might suggest this facility is even capable of assembling subspace weaponry.”

“Me either,” Erin admitted as Dean cast occasional glances back at them to hear what was being said. Talia had the advantage of only needing to turn her antennae to hear them, the blue stalks swiveling back and forth to catch every word. Erin hadn’t really expected to find the alleged subspace weapons ready and waiting for them in the cargo bay but she had expected to find the innocuous things weapons were composed of.

“A star base has many cargo bays,” The Admiral noted coming out from behind the shelter of the crates to join them. “And I seriously doubt they would hide experimental subspace weapons in such an obvious place.”

“No, but they would store the components in them,” Sam said before Erin could say the same thing.  The Admiral merely looked at him arrogantly and then turned to Erin. “Shall we proceed.”

Erin considered for a moment and nodded. The Admiral was right. Component or subspace weapons, either one, could be stored in any of the cargo bays on board. They didn’t have time to argue it with the clock running.

“Nothing here,” She said to Talia and Dean as she and the others moved past them toward the door and they fell in line assuming standard reconnaissance formation. They edged up to it, careful not to trigger the sensor so it opened, three to either side. Erin, Dean and Talia on one and Lorian, Sam and the Admiral on the other.

“Mr. Lorian?” Erin asked and the Vulcan complied without having to be told what she wanted. He checked his tricorder again to see if any of the Romulans had moved closer.

“The Romulans remain at a distance of twenty meters,” he confirmed.

“Okay, phasers on heavy stun. Keep your profiles low,” Erin ordered. “Clear the room and then search it.”

 “As you have so well reminded your crew,” the Admiral put in, “this is a highly classified mission. Starfleet doesn’t officially sanction preemptive strikes, Captain.” It was all Erin could do not to scoff at the Deltan for saying exactly what Erin had told her in a fit of outrage in Admiral T’Nae’s office. “Whatever moral qualms you may have, put them aside in the interests of protecting the Federation. What we do here may be distasteful but it is necessary. I am authorizing you to use lethal force.”

There were looks of askance from everyone. Erin went stiff with fury. “You can authorize it all you like. But I will not order my crew to kill when it isn’t necessary.”

“Do your duty, Captain Winchester,” Admiral Zelle hissed viciously.

Erin gritted her teeth against another stabbing pain that sliced through her skull. “My duty is to find subspace weapons and destroy them. Not to go on a killing spree. I won’t do it.”

“None of us will,” Dean seethed.

Sam looked horrified by the idea and Talia was glaring icily at the Admiral. Lorian looked between Erin and the Admiral with his brow furrowed deeply.

“We can stand here and argue. Or we can do this. Your choice Admiral. The clock is ticking,” Erin growled. “But I won’t kill without cause.” _“Beware! Peril awaits you!”_ that dream voice screamed and a second lance of agony struck her cranium but she stalwartly ignored it. Why wasn’t the analgesic Cass had given her working?

The Admiral’s jaw tightened and she balled her delicate fists in rage, her breath coming in sharp exhalations but she relented. “Proceed.”

With that, Erin motioned with her chin for the away team to move out.

“I calculate the odds that the Romulans will try to kill us at ninety four point six percent,” Lorian advised.

“Never tell me the odds,” Erin said as they moved, end of the group first, spilling out of the door into the hall and checking for targets as they hastened to the other side.  They crept down the hall to the left and arrowed again to the right as the hallway allowed, close to the wall and bodies held low, phasers ready.

“If my intel is correct, the weapons are in the next room,” the Admiral whispered rather too loudly from the rear. 

“That’s awful specific,” Sam muttered darkly voicing what everyone else was thinking. How exactly did the Admiral know that the weapons were in the next room, when no one knew what the next room contained? But none of them got to consider it for more than an instant.  An Uhlan in full sharp-shouldered uniform, walked past the open doorway of the next room and froze in shock.

“Starfleet?” he gasped.  He turned to scream for help and Erin fired. The man crumpled into an unconscious heap on the floor never uttering his cry but it was enough to draw attention from those inside the room. The group moved.

Dean shot forward firing rapidly more to give himself and the others cover to get into position than to accurately take down anything. The others flowed in behind him and the Admiral stayed carefully back.

They stunned five Romulans before anyone could figure out what was going on. And then someone yelled in Rihannsu, the Romulan tongue. “Call for reinforcements!”

Ordered bedlam ensued. Talia rose from her cover behind one of the crates in the room--which seemed to be some sort of cargo distribution center with the raised and railed platform in the middle of the room fringed by computer consoles surrounded below by open space and more cargo containers—and hit him in the chest with a well aimed phaser bolt as he reached for his plasma pistol.

Several Romulans came running to his aid, green plasma fire arcing through the air like lightning to splatter against walls and crates as the team ducked and dodged, firing back. But one broke off to run, presumably to get the aforementioned reinforcements. Erin’s position prevented her from getting a clean shot so she yelled at her first officer.

“Dean!”

Dean looked at her whilst ducking a plasma shot from another Romulan leveled at his head and whom Lorian stunned for it then followed Erin’s gaze. He instantly responded by very calmly, in the middle of a firefight, raising his phaser, sighting as the Romulan ran and pegging him neatly in the back to collapse face first onto the floor. Then he was away again, blasting at someone else and so was Erin. But that wouldn’t stop reinforcements from coming for long. Someone had to have heard the commotion by now.

Screamed death threats rang through the air from the Romulans and battle cries of ‘For the Empire!’ echoed around them. Erin paid them no attention as she leapt over a crate just in time to snipe a Romulan who was about to shoot Sam in the head at the same time that he was stunning another one. She seriously doubted that their weapons were set for stun. But saving Sam from getting brained exposed her long enough that she was taken by surprise when another Romulan barreled into her physically. Erin hit the ground with a grunt of expelled air and they went sliding across the floor like shuffleboard shuttles as she tried to get turned so she could shoot her assailant.

She managed to do so only to find his fist careening for her face faster than she could block. Very abruptly the Romulan stiffened as if he’d been struck as a long fingered hand snaked over his shoulder and bore down. Lorian had him in a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. The Romulan’s eyes rolled back and he passed out only to be pushed unceremoniously off Erin. Lorian peered down at her, his face focused but expressionless and offered her his arm.

Erin took his arm and he grasped hers, hauling her to her feet. No sooner had she regained them than she saw Talia about to be shot in the back by another Romulan as she dropped her current opponent.

“Down!” Erin barked.

There was no hesitancy Talia simply did it, dropping into a crouch without blinking. Erin shot the Romulan who had a plasma pistol trained on Talia’s back. He hit the floor in a slump. 

And away they went again. Erin went one direction and Lorian broke off in another, leaping gracefully over crates and stunning Romulans. Erin took down three nearly at once with a rapid fire shot as they got too close to each other to resist stunning as a group.

Dean ducked as Sam shouted at him and took down a Romulan that had been about to get him. The man fell backward like a toppled statute and lay still. Suddenly quiet reigned. No more plasma or phaser fire hurtled across the room. No yelling.  Just quiet.

“Did we get them all?” Talia asked from the other side of the raised platform, her voice reverberating underneath it as she leaned sideways to speak to the rest of the group, picking her way over to them. The platform was high enough she didn’t have to stoop to do it.

“I think so,” Sam panted.

Erin sympathized with him. The adrenalin Cass was so worried about flowed freely in her veins now, heart slammed like a hammer and her breathing came in the familiar deep drags that came with battle. She felt like she might go to warp any second and be capable of running through space all the way home. But along with that adrenalin rush was that dread that pulsated and screamed violently.

“We’re clear,” Dean said jogging to meet them from a circuit of the room. “We got fifteen of them.”

“Sam,” Erin said as the Admiral crept in to join them. “Secure the doors, manually override them if you have to.”

“Dean and Talia you two cover me and Mr. Lorian until Sam can get the doors locked down then all of you start searching the room. I’ll take the computer,” Erin ordered all but pretending the Admiral wasn’t there. Lorian looked as if he were about to protest in some way but quickly decided against it and proceeded to begin scanning the room for anything that might be related to the subspace weapons.

Erin ran up the tritanium ramp of the platform, her boots echoing with a tinny sound as Sam raced for the door opposite the one they’d entered to lock it down before reinforcements could arrive. Talia trotted at his heel, watching his back and Dean took up position at the other door. The Admiral followed Erin, very casually and without the least sense that this was dangerous.

It took a beat for Erin’s brain to switch from Standard to Romulan syntax as she peered down at the long computer console with its Romulan glyphs glowing a soft green against the inky black background but then she was off and running, her hands flying over the controls fluidly.

She might be the Captain of a starship trained intensively for command, combat, diplomacy, strategy and tactics but before she’d been usurped by Captain Masc Taggart for the command track at the academy, Erin had been on the science track, intending to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a computer scientist. Rather than drop her major and focus only on the command track Erin had dual tracked, training for both divisions at the same time. It had earned her the nickname ‘Ms. Extra Credit’ from Dean and resulted in her spending most of her time running from one class to another while her friends spent their leisure hours at other pursuits but it also meant Erin had gotten her computer science degree and could hack a computer with the best of them.

_‘Input security authorization:’_ the console flashed at her. Erin ignored it and sent the console into diagnostic mode, bypassing the authorization protocol as though it had malfunctioned and slipping in through the maintenance protocol.

A quick look around the room to check on her crew as the computer complied proved that Sam had locked down one door and was working on the other with Dean and Talia at his back. Lorian was steadily and efficiently scanning anything he could get his nimble hands on and often stopped to check over the unconscious Romulans on the floor for anything useful. The Admiral stood by and watch Erin with interest.

‘ _Diagnostic mode initiated. Input your query now’_ , the computer flashed.

Erin typed in, ‘ _What is the mission of this station?_ ’

It took a second and then the computer flashed its reply on screen. ‘ _Vendor Station is engaged in medical and scientific research._ ’ Well that was mildly interesting, she’d expected to discover that the station was engaged in scientific research if they had been developing subspace weapons but the medical part she had not. She had expected to find that the station was scientific and military in origin. Though it did back up their findings in the cargo bay. But the Romulans were paranoid by nature. It was virtually encoded in their DNA. Why would they be so lacks as to develop subspace weapons on a station that was not military?

Again that sense of something very wrong surged to the forefront and as Erin pressed the computer for further information it took her effort to keep her hands from trembling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. ‘ _Elaborate.’_

She took the second the computer required to reply to overlook the room again. Sam had locked down the second door and now all four of the others were winding their way with tricorders through everything in the room.

‘ _Access at this terminal is restricted to minimum-security information. Please access a command level terminal to access further information’_ , the computer flashed.

‘ _Diagnostic override. This terminal is malfunctioning’,_ Erin keyed in.

‘‘ _Unable to comply_ ,’ the computer flashed. ‘ _This terminal is a slave of the main computer. All overrides must be performed from the main terminal.”_

“Damn,” Erin cursed softly. No matter how good she was with computers no one could defy physics. She couldn’t force the terminal to allow her access when it was only capable of receiving and storing limited information. It was incapable of sending the required information and was essentially a drone for the main computer.

“Problem, Captain?” the Admiral asked.

“This terminal is slaved to the main computer. I can’t get access to anything from here,” Erin said.

“Unfortunate,” the Admiral observed as Sam came up the ramp of the platform.

“Captain,” he said looking disturbed. “I can’t find anything but more medical supplies. These people? They’re scientists and doctors, there are no military officers among them, only a couple of guards.”

“Indeed,” Lorian said coming to join them. “As of yet we have located no weapons, experimental or otherwise. Starfleet’s information may have been in error. There is nothing here but medical supplies and a crate of felodesine chips, which while inevitable lethal, is not out of place on a Romulan station.”

Felodisne chips were a poison for which there was no known cure. All Romulan agents, military or otherwise, carried them in the event they were captured. They served as suicide pills. 

Erin frowned deeply as Dean and Talia mounted the ramp. “Have you found anything?”

“No. Some leporazine, tissue regenerators and something I can’t indentify loaded in hypo sprays but no weapons and nothing to construct them,” Dean said. “You find anything?”

Erin shook her head. “No. I can’t get access from here. This is a slaved terminal.”

“Unless they are planning of killing us with medical aid I’d say somebody got their wires crossed at Starfleet,” Talia put in.

Everyone looked at one another, all of them thinking the same thing. Had they made an incredibly huge mistake? Had Erin? Had they just committed an act of war for nothing? Sanctioned or unsanctioned?

“If you’d been fighting the Romulans as long as I have, you’d know not to be fooled by their tricks. They’re probably using something to confuse your tricorders. There’s much more on this space station than medicine,” the Admiral insisted.

“I find that possibility highly unlikely, Admiral,” Lorian said. “The sheer variety of readings would be nearly impossible to duplicate accurately.”

“Let’s test that theory,” Erin said very calmly. “Dean, open one of the crates.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied and hopped off the platform.

“We don’t have time for this,” the Admiral growled.

“We’re taking the time,” Erin spat back, staring the Admiral down and daring her to argue.

There was the sound of sustained phaser fire as Dean used his pistol to shear the top off of a crate. Erin kept her eyes steadfastly on the Admiral. It clattered onto the floor loudly and then Dean called up. “Nope. It’s exactly what the tricorder says it is. Leporazine.”

“That’s one crate. Nothing more than luck,” the Admiral bit.

“Another, Dean,” Erin commanded. Her first officer complied as the others stood there looking tense and wary.

A second sustained phaser blast and another clatter as a second crate was opened. “Tissue regenerators,” Dean announced. “Just like the tricorder says.”

Erin’s jaw set and her stomach flip flopped with nausea. “That’s it.” She turned on her heel and walked away from the Admiral descending the ramp to join Dean, the others followed without question.

“Don’t you dare!” the Admiral spat. “Coward!”

“Janira are you getting all this?” Erin asked into the air of the open comlink, ignoring the Admiral.

“Yes, sir,” came the reply. “Every word.”

As the others fell into position behind Erin, she looked up the ramp at the Admiral. “You have consistently withheld information on a mission with circumspect reliable evidence. You claimed intimate knowledge of the whereabouts of the alleged subspace weapons that you have no reason to know and nothing here has corroborated your story. As they say on my planet, we’re taking our ball and going home. _Devil’s Trap_ prepare to beam us up.”

“Stand by,” Janira replied.

“Do you want millions to die because you weren’t absolutely certain?” The Admiral growled. “Can you live with that?”

Erin stopped short.

“Ignore me and you _will_ get millions of innocents killed,” the Admiral spat one last time.  Pain permeated Erin’s head fiercely, radiating over her entire skull. Her heart responded by beating harder than ever and fear welled up like a virulent tide that swallowed her anger. What if she was wrong? What if the weapons were just somewhere else on the station? How could she possibly take the risk? Something insisted that that wasn’t right. That none of this was but it was drowned by the pain in her head and the all encompassing need to ensure that millions didn’t die because she hadn’t made absolutely certain there was no truth to the Admiral’s intel or the mission.

 “We’re ready to beam you up,” Janira said through the comlink.

“Standby that order. Continue monitoring,” Erin said giving in. She couldn’t take the risk. She couldn’t. She was no more capable of risking the lives of millions of innocent Federation citizens to the wrath of the Romulans than she could kill her first officer in cold blood. Something about that seemed off somehow but she couldn’t grasp it. Couldn’t hear the now tiny dream voice screaming frantically, ‘ _Beware! Peril awaits you!_ ’

“Aye, sir,” Janira said with a note of confusion in her voice.

None of the away team protested though they looked as confused as Janira sounded. But the confusion flickered away quickly and was replaced by acceptance, save Lorian who remained with a conflicted almost pained expression. This mission no doubt warred with every tenant of logic and ethics the Vulcan possessed. Erin was glad someone was so accepting. She wasn’t but she couldn’t risk that many lives if she wasn’t stone cold certain. She flashed back to her nightmares from the other night. On how she’d watched everything and everyone be slaughtered because she hadn’t been certain, because she’d backed out.

“Fine, but we head straight for the command center. We’re down to thirty minutes,” Erin said. They weren’t just down to thirty minutes they were also about to be set upon again. Distantly she could hear the sound of booted feet pounding on metal deck plates. Romulan reinforcements from one of the other levels.

“Certainly Captain,” the Admiral said sounding inordinately pleased with herself. So much so for an instant Erin’s anger over took the sense of dread. It was almost enough for her to make sense of it all but it evaporated too quickly for it to crystallize. No. She had to do this. “I don’t think there’s anything else to find here anyway. The Romulans keep their most sensitive information in close proximity to their commanders. I’m certain if we search the computer in the command center we will find the whereabouts of the subspace weapons. Then you’ll find out what the Romulans are really up to.”

“Let’s move,” Erin said to her crew and they all hurried to head for the other door, knowing they’d have to shoot their way through. The Admiral trotted behind at a safe distance.

Erin gave Sam a nod and he overrode his previous override, freeing the doors. They whooshed open and in poured another contingent of armed Romulans. They never had a chance bottlenecked by the hallway. As they poured in, the five members of the away team stunned them into unconsciousness. Then stepped out into the hallway and after checking for more life sign readings hurried on through what was obviously the mess hall. Which let out into what appeared to be a conference room manned by more Romulans. Beyond it lay another door.

“If this map remains as accurate as it has been up to now, that door should lead to the command center,” Lorian said.

Another firefight ensued before the team had managed to stun the occupants of the room.

“Someone will have heard that,” Talia noted as they made their quick way over the stunned bodies and headed for what Erin hoped was the command center. It was, in all its computerized glory. The huge room housed three long computer terminals. One on either side of the room and one at the center, which had to be the main computer. But strangest of all, no one was there.

“Yeah, this isn’t suspicious,” Dean muttered.

“Mr. Lorian?” Erin asked. The Vulcan checked his tricorder and shook his head.

“No life signs. The room is as empty as it seems.”

“Then where did they go?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know but we don’t have time to find out. We have twenty minutes.” Erin said. “Cover me. I’m going to see what I can get out of the computer.”

“I’ve got you,” Dean said with a nod and the group slinked in low, wary and watchful for a trap but as Erin snuck up the ramp to the main computer none seemed apparent. By now her heart raced so hard that every beat hurt. Not excruciatingly but it was as if her heart were contracting too tightly. Not only were they running out of time. So was she. Her head ached in a way she couldn’t even begin to describe. But all she could focus on was ignoring it, her hammering heart and getting to the main computer.

Dean, Sam and Talia dropped into guard positions around the platform and Lorian followed Erin up, standing with his back to her and the Admiral as a rear guard. Erin quickly set to work.

She depended solely on her crew’s ability to keep her from getting shot in the head with a plasma pistol by an unseen assailant as she focused on only the computer. She had to. The security protocol was terribly complicated.  She had to move so fast in subverting the security system and tricking the computer into thinking that she had entered the security code but that it had malfunctioned that she lost all sense of space and time. Finally in desperation the computer said in a male voice, ‘ _Critical malfunction. Full access granted. All systems available. Begin maintenance_.’

“Most impressive, Captain,” Lorian said from behind her. Erin nearly jumped out of her skin when he said it she’d been so absorbed by what she was doing.

“Don’t get impressed yet, Commander,” Erin dismissed. “That was just getting in the door.”  She keyed in her first command, something simple that wouldn’t set off any buried subroutines she might have missed. _‘Who is in command of this station?’_

‘ _Commander Solek is currently assigned to Vendor Station_ ,’ the computer said back obediently.

Erin risked trying something a bit more complex and a bit more likely to trigger a warning system. _‘What are the attack plans against the Federation?’_

_‘Rator III is the staging point for Operation Khelian. Full details require an Imperial authorization code. Input code now or retract query. You have five seconds.”_

Erin immediately backed out of the query command. She didn’t have nor could she crack the proper authorization code in five seconds. But it did confirm that the Romulans were up to something and where. At least this godforsaken mission had gotten them that tiny shred of information. Flimsy as it was. She keyed in her last command, the most important one.

_‘Where are the subspace weapons?’_

_‘This station is a medical and science station whose current projects include: Development of a vaccine for Terohka Virus. Methods for identifying Undine in humanoid form. An analysis of the purpose of Undine Isomorphic injectors. There are no subspace weapons on Vendor Station.’_

Erin went cold and still. That’s why the station was in the Vendor system. The Vendorians were shape shifters, were they aiding the Romulans in finding a way to identify the Undine? With horror Erin realized what was going on. The haze that had been choking her for days evaporating like smoke and her heart rate going from hard and painfully fast to manic.

 There were no subspace weapons. There never had been. This had been a setup to infiltrate the Romulan base in an attempt find and no doubt destroy the research the Romulans had done on the Undine. Which meant that Admiral Zelle…was not Admiral Zelle. She was Undine. And they’d just committed an act of war and aided the monster in her mission. Somehow, Admiral Zelle had managed to convince Admiral T’Nae that there were subspace weapons here or Admiral T’Nae was one as well but the end result was the same. Erin had just started a war with the Romulans for nothing and helped the Undine Starfleet had insisted vehemently it had a handle on.

Erin should have known. She had known. She didn’t know how but she’d known all along and now it was too late. And the ‘Admiral’ was directly behind her and Lorian. “Mr. Lorian,” Erin said very calmly. “Run!”

“Incoming!” Dean shouted at the same time as a troop of twenty very angry looking Romulans, led by an even angrier looking Commander with plasma pistols leveled at them rushed into the room.

Erin came around in a back strike at the Admiral as Lorian obeyed and leapt clear of the platform in one graceful motion, using the terminal itself to launch him over the edge of the platform.  The Admiral caught Erin’s arm as Erin had intended her to as the Romulans opened fire and all hell broke loose. Erin had no intention of fighting the Undine in close quarters but she had to put distance between them. Undine were far stronger and faster than any humanoid  but as long as they were not in their natural form their deadly claws weren’t a problem. She had to get clear before the Undone could shift. Phaser fire was only going to piss it off once it did.

The Admiral started to wrench Erin’s arm back to break it and Erin swung in with her other hand, the phaser pistol clutched like an improvised pair of old fashioned brass knuckles and slugged her. The Admiral reeled and lost her grip on Erin. Erin scrambled over the edge of the platform and into the hail of plasma fire, shouting “The Admiral is Undine!”

 “I have heard many stories of Federation hypocrisy and depravity but I never believed them. Until today,” the Romulan Commander said shaking with blatant fury so hard her plasma pistol rattled as she fired at anything that moved. “My people were no threat to you! We are doing medical research. We cure disease here. We help the blind to see and the lame to walk!”

“Wait,” Erin pleaded to no avail as the Commander took shots at Erin that she ducked desperately trying to explain as her crew stunned anything they could.

The Admiral wasted no time. She tackled the computer console with a fervor, fake Deltan hands flittering like bird wings over the controls. “Somebody stop her!” Erin yelled loudly. Dean  shot down the nearest Romulan and catapulted over the stunned body, firing at the Admiral. The Admiral ducked and rose again quickly hastening to finish what she was doing. Which could be anything, Erin had bypassed and disabled all the security protocols.

“We expose the foul Undine shape shifters for what they are. If you oppose this, you must be Undine. You understand only chaos and death and that’s what I, Solek, will give you. Die foul creatures!” the Commander screamed in a rage.

“We’re not Undine. She is!” Erin yelled.

“Liar!”  the Commander roared and sent another barrage of plasma fire Erin’s way. Erin shot back catching the Commander squarely in the chest. The shot was at too close a range, even on stun it could be fatal. The Romulan woman hurled backward and lay still. Erin didn’t have time to see if she were still alive.

 “Self-destruct initiated,” the computer cried. “Fusion reactor stabilizers offline. Overload in three minutes.”

“Captain, Romulan warbirds are on approach. The disabled ships have called for reinforcements. We have to beam you back now!” Janira called into the still open comlink.

“Do it!” Erin yelled back at her, stunning as many Romulans as she could. There was no hope for reasoning right now. The whole station was going to blow.

The Admiral ceased with her pretenses and shifted. The beast was three times the height of any humanoid, bioneural cords hanging from the sides of its alien head and its tripedal legs giving it the air of some sort of leathery jowled spider.  The sight sent the few remaining Romulans scattering like frightened animals. They fell under her crew’s phasers and then it was only them and the Undine.

The Undine came at them as they raced away from it, gathering closer together to make transport easier. Erin felt the transporter beam start to take hold as the last of them, Lorian at the rear providing cover for the others, ran to the gathering knot. The Undine reached him before he could reach them. Seizing him by the back of his body armor and lifting him in the air.

 

***

Orbiting the station, Lieutenant Commander Janira Triven proved that her delicate feminine nature had a serious side. “Have you got them?” she demanded from the Captain’s chair. The red alert klaxon wailed loudly.

“Yes. But I’ve lost the Vulcan. He just disappeared!” the Klingon Nilsa said, standing in for Talia.

“Get him back!” Janira demanded.

“The Romulans are in range!” Law cried. “They’re firing.”

“Shields up!” Janira barked knowing full well it meant they couldn’t transport Commander Lorian back to the ship. She had no choice. “Return fire!”

 

***

In the transporter room three members of the away team materialized on the transporter pad, under Lieutenant Chuigaia’s alarmed gaze only a second before the _Devil’s Trap_ was rocked by the first barrage of disruptor fire from the attacking Romulan ships. Commander Lorian wasn’t with them. Captain Winchester’s combadge clattered to the floor…without her.

***

 

“Lorian!” Erin cried out.

With only a second to act before the transporter beam could whisk her away and leave Lorian to die, Erin ripped her combadge off and dashed out of the transporter’s grasp. Her combadge disappeared without her and Erin raced for the Undine. In the beast’s grasp as he was, the creature’s natural bio-electric field would make the _Devil’s Trap_ lose its transporter lock. They wouldn’t even be able to pick up his bio-signature. Somehow, the Undine had found a way to mask it in humanoid form but it couldn’t in its natural state.

Erin ignored the sharp pain that radiated down her left arm, ignored the erratic way her heart beat. She knew her phaser would be useless against the beast but her sword was another matter. The Undine were impervious to permanent injury. But they could be injured for a few seconds before their dense biological makeup eradicated whatever it was that had attacked it. Precious seconds that might buy Lorian the time he needed to get away. Erin already knew she was dead. She knew what was happening to her.

“Two minutes to self destruct,” the computer warned.

Lorain screamed in the Undine’s vice like hold as it assaulted his mind with its own, forcing past any shields the Vulcan possessed but he still tried to pry himself free. Erin dropped her phaser, pulled her sword and sprang, scrambling up the beast’s back like a boulder before she drove the sword down next to what would have been its spine, if Undine even had spines.

***

Dean gaped at the space where Erin should have been. He looked at the space where Lorian should have been in shock as well but it was the space where Erin’s combadge lay that made his heart skip a beat.

“No,” he said. He didn’t even have to think about what Erin had done. He knew.

He looked up sharply at the transporter chief who was so stunned her mouth was hanging open. “I had them. I had them,” she said despondently.

“Oh God,” Sam breathed.

“Get them back!”

“I can’t. Shields are up!” the Lieutenant wailed as the ship shuddered under more weapons fire. Dean had to get to the bridge. They were under attack. He was the commanding officer now…maybe forever. He had to… but Erin.

“Dean,” Sam said dragging at his arm, pulling him toward the door. “We have to get to the bridge.”

Dean shook his head and glared at the transporter chief. “Get them back!” he spat then ran with what remained of the crew for the bridge and prayed.

 

***

“Hail them!” Janira ordered as the _Devil’s Trap_ took another battering from the disruptor fire of four ships. The three-disabled T’Varo’s had rejoined the two new Mogai Warbirds assisting them. One was in the mist of transporting up Romulans from the base that was about to self-destruct but the others were firing on the _Devil’s Trap._ They wouldn’t fire on the ship rescuing personnel but they would defend themselves against the others.

“They aren’t responding!” her own station replacement, Lieutenant Gilbert with her newly knit broken arm said.

Janira cursed. If they’d only answer the hail, the open comlink with the away team had revealed everything to the bridge crew onboard. They knew about the Admiral and Janira was trying—probably uselessly--to tell them. They’d lost the link with the away team when they’d beamed up and Commander Lorian had disappeared from scanners.

At just that moment, Commander Singer burst onto the bridge and Janira sighed in relief. “Commander!” Talia and Sam followed him but to Janira’s surprise, Captain Winchester didn’t.

“Where’s the Captain?” she asked instantly, shooting up out of the Captain’s chair.

“Law, keep them busy any way you can,” Dean ordered without answering Janira. “Bridge to Engineering!”

“Go ahead!” Mary shouted as if she were frazzled.

“The Captain and Mr. Lorian are still on the base. Find a way to get them off before the whole thing explodes.”

“Oh no,” Janira muttered at the news.

“Commander, our power reserves are at fifty percent. We’re pouring everything into the shields!” Mary cried in horror. “We can’t!”

“Find a way,” Dean spat.

“Yes, sir,” Mary said with less than a confident tone. “I’ll find it.”

 

***

 

The Undine flailed wildly in agony, throwing Lorian to the side like a toy to slam hard to the ground. He grunted loudly but rolled into the fall skidding to an inelegant stop and scrambling to his feet.

The Undine groped at its back trying to reach Erin and Erin hung on, twisting the sword to inflict as much damage as she could before the sword literally dissolved. The sword snapped and the Undine reached over its back to grab Erin. Its claws bit down into her body armor dangerously as it dragged her over its shoulder.

“ _You’ve served your purpose well, even if you and the Vulcan were difficult ones to control. Your actions today will guarantee my successful infiltration of the Romulan Star Empire. I shall assume Commander Selok’s identity and they will be none the wiser_ ,” the Undine thought at Erin. She heard it as clearly as a spoken voice. She didn’t understand how unless it’s psionic abilities were just that strong.

Lorain was slinking across the floor toward Erin’s fallen phaser. He favored his left shoulder slightly but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Don’t be a fool. Get out of here,” Erin groaned at him as the Undine clenched its clawed hand tighter around Erin’s shoulder, the claws starting to tear through even the polyalloy. Erin pawed at the creature uselessly.

“ _Now that you’ve helped me uncover the Romulan’s research into our shape shifting technology I can work to counter their discoveries. Just as I have done during my time in Starfleet_ ,” the Undine thought at her again there was a definite tone of laughter to it. _“Congratulations Captain Winchester. You’ve started a war and now you will die along with your crew and everyone on this station. The Undine thank you for your sacrifice.”_

One minute until self destruct,” the computer warned.

The Undine bore down as hard as it could, its claws ripping through the body armor like it was nothing, and sank them into Erin’s body before and behind. Erin screamed in agony and her head exploded with pain as the Undine forced its way into her mind and tried it is best to break it. Erin screamed back at it mentally. She forgot everything but the unbelievable pain in her shoulder and in her head--even the increasing ache in her chest and down her left arm—held onto the Undine with the only good hand she had and _pushed_.

 

***

“If you can keep the Romulans off our ass I can disrupt the aft shields with an energy pulse and beam them up,” Mary relayed to the bridge. “We’ll only have twenty seconds to do it.”

“Allow me,” Law said and without being ordered to, he fired all beam weapons at once at the Romulans. The view screen turned into a rainbow of bright light that no one could see through.

“Do it!” Dean barked from the bridge. The ship was taking a lot of fire. There were hull breeches on two decks, other than the two already breeched and sealed. Causalities were over running sickbay. They had to get out of here.

“On three,” Mary said. “One, two, three!”

“Aft shield down!” Sam called from his station.

“I’ve got a lock on Commander Lorian!” Talia declared.

“What about Erin?” Dean asked.

 Talia looked back at him sadly. “I can’t find her.”

Dean felt a chill pass over him. “Beam him up,” he whispered harshly, then more loudly, “Beam him up!”

 

***

Erin didn’t know what she was doing. Or why or how. But she _pushed_ with all her might. The Undine _screamed_.

She thought she heard Lorian say, “Impossible.”

“We’ve got a lock on you Commander. Beaming you out,” Talia’s voice echoed somewhere. Erin didn’t know where anymore. There was only _pushing_ and agony and screaming. She was pretty sure it was her who was screaming.

“No. If you beam me out now, the Captain dies,” Lorian said very seriously but he didn’t yell. Absurdly Erin wondered if anything could ruffle his feathers enough to make him yell.   

“We’ve only got twenty seconds,” Talia warned.

“It will be enough,” Lorian said.

Erin swore she heard phaser fire and then she was falling. She was vaguely aware that she had hit the ground but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Thirty seconds to self destruct,” the computer droned.

The Undine shifted. Became Commander Selok. “This is Commander Selok. I am taking fire from a Starfleet invasion force.  One for emergency beam out!” it barked and Erin couldn’t stop it.

“Stop it,” Erin pleaded with Lorian, trying weakly to get up. But it was too late. The Undine shimmered in to green particles and disappeared. 

Lorian swooped to kneel beside Erin, a phaser propped on his knee, and pulled his combadge off, sticking it to Erin’s abdomen. “Lock onto my combadge and my bio-signature.”

“Twenty seconds to self destruct,” the computer warned.

“Now,” Lorian demanded sternly.

 

***

“Ten seconds to self-destruct,” Lieutenant Gilbert warned from the communications station as she monitored subspace. Janira stood out of the way, not taking back her station when the time to switch would take attention away from communications monitoring.

“Aft shield back up!” Sam said.

Dean sat in the Captain’s chair tensely. The other ships were beginning to veer off, to give up the fight in favor of saving themselves.

 “I got them!” Lieutenant Chuigaia relayed up to the bridge.

“Five seconds,” Lieutenant Gilbert said.

“Pril, get us out of here! Maximum warp!” Dean ordered.

“Three.”

Without saying anything the Saurian helmsman pulled the _Devil’s Trap_ around hard.

“Two.”

The Romulans did not pursue, they were running as well.  Pril threw them to warp as Lieutenant Gilbert called the last of the countdown and the _Devil’s Trap_ hurled away. Behind them Vendor Station cracked like a cooling lava bed with green energy and then exploded. The Romulans fled. The explosion of the station caught all but one Mogai in its wake, tearing the ships apart before they knew what hit them. Thousands of lives lost. The lone survivor, the ship which had been beaming up Romulans from the station, disappeared into warp.

 

***

 

In the transporter room, Commander Lorian and Captain Winchester materialized on the transporter pad in the same pose they’d been beamed up in. Lieutenant Chuigaia took one look at them and hit her combadge as the _Devil’s Trap_ went to warp. “Medical Emergency. Transporter Room One.”

Instantly the holo-emitters installed in the room, and throughout the ship, responded and the EMH that so annoyed the Captain emerged from thin air complete with a holographic medical tricorder in hand.

“Please state the nature of the medical…” it started to say automatically. It stopped at the sight of the Captain and immediately moved for the transporter pad.

“The Captain was attacked by an Undine,” Commander Lorian told it.

“Move away,” the EMH commanded and Lorian complied, retrieving his combadge at the same time with delicacy and reattaching it to his body armor with light fingers. To touch the Captain now, infected by Undine cells, would risk infecting himself. The Captain for her part was stubbornly attempting to get up, teeth gritted as blood soaked through the left shoulder of her body armor.

The Commander watched with an almost awe struck expression as the EMH worked. The Benzite transporter chief looked stricken, a blue hand over her mouth, hiding her tendrils and breathing apparatus.

“Lie still,” the EMH demanded of Erin, scanning her with the holographic tricorder to assess the situation and then called out, “EMH to sickbay.”

“Sickbay,” Castiel responded.

“Doctor Novak, Captain Winchester has been attacked by an Undine. In addition, she seems to be exhibiting critically elevated…”

“Understood,” Cass said without delay cutting the EMH off before it could finish. “Get her to sickbay immediately.”

“Doctor,” the EMH insisted quite seriously, “the Captain is having a heart attack.”

“Then run, damn you!” Cass barked. The EMH startled like a spooked deer but obeyed. “On my way,” the EMH said. He looked over at Commander Lorian who had looked both terribly surprised and perplexed. “Commander, are you injured?”

“I am relatively unharmed. I do not require medical treatment at this time,” the Vulcan said.

 The EMH considered it for a moment. He didn’t seem to care for the Commander’s answer but he nodded and scooped the Captain up effortlessly. Made of nothing but photons and light, the Undine cells were harmless to him and the Captain’s weight did not register.

“I have to get to the bridge,” the Captain rasped.

“You are going to sickbay,” the EMH told her as he turned and started to exit the room.

“Will she live?” Commander Lorian asked as the EMH reached the door.

The EMH looked back, an eerie skewed silver Vulcan-like echo of the Commander himself. “I have neither the information nor the confidence to tell you.”

Commander Lorian blinked once and looked down for a nanosecond. “Understood,” he said and the EMH left, taking the Captain with him as fast as his holomatrix would allow. The Commander exited behind him, hastening to his post on the bridge. The Vulcan kept his right shoulder oddly still but his eyes looked almost haunted.

 

***

 

Dean was barking orders with the best of them on the bridge of the _Devil’s Trap_ as the ship slid through space at warp 9.99 like a needle through silk. The star field zooming by on the view screen was discordantly peaceful in comparison to everyone’s state of mind.

“Status.”

“Power is at seventy five percent and holding. Shields are available, more or less. Hull breaches on decks ten and eleven are sealed with force fields. Fire suppression systems engaged,” Sam reported.

“Multiple casualties reported, some serious but no fatalities,” Lieutenant Gilbert said. Dean sighed with unveiled relief.

“All weapons systems are available,” Law called. “But yields are minimal.”

“We’re stable for now,” Talia confirmed.

“Engineering report,” Dean called.

“We’re fine. Warp core’s fine. But it’s going to take a little while before we have one hundred percent power,” Mary replied sounding more than a little flustered.

“How long before we can go to slipstream?” Dean asked.

“At least five hours. We’ve taken enough damage we’d tear the ship in two if we tried it until repairs have been made. I can keep us at warp 9.99 until then but barely,” Mary advised. “If we get into another fight with the Romulans…I can’t guarantee the shields will hold.”

Dean grimaced, that meant far longer in Romulan space than he cared for. “Acknowledged. Get to work.” He looked down toward the helm. “Lieutenant Pril, plot a course that avoids all known traffic in Romulan space and any inhabited worlds. Janira, monitor subspace for any communications. I want us to avoid any more confrontations.”

Aye, sir,” both officers said.

“The Captain and Commander Lorian?” Mary asked anxiously, the intership channel still open.

“We got them,” Dean assured her.

Mary made a soft noise of blatant relief. “Thank God. Harvelle, out.”

The channel closed and the turbolift opened. Commander Lorain strode out of it purposefully and Dean didn’t even get his mouth open to ask him for a report before the Vulcan was already delivering it. Erin was again, noticeably absent.

“The Undine posing as Admiral Zelle beamed to one of the Romulan ships at the last moment,” he said as he made his way to his station. “Did any of the Romulan ships survive the destruction of Vendor Station?”

“One that was pulling people off the station warped out at the last second. The others were destroyed,” Dean said.

“Then that is the ship the Undine fled to. It has successfully accomplished its objective. It has infiltrated the Romulan Star Empire as Commander Selok, the commanding officer of Vendor Station and will ensure that the Romulans gain no further knowledge of its kind’s shape changing abilities just as it did in Starfleet,” the Vulcan said sliding into the chair at his console and assessing it as his stand in scurried out of the way. “I am detecting no tachyon emissions. We have not been pursued. I will continue monitoring.”

“What about Erin? Where is she?” Dean asked worriedly, some part of him furious that the Vulcan hadn’t said anything about her yet and bitter that he seemed so implacably calm. As though they hadn’t just barely escaped being obliterated.

“The Captain was grievously injured and has been taken to sickbay.”

“The Undine?” Dean asked tightly.

“I am afraid so Commander,” the Vulcan confirmed. “Additionally it appears that she has suffered a myocardial infarction.”

Dean swallowed hard as everyone on the bridge looked stricken by the Vulcan’s coldly imparted news. “Will she live?”

The Vulcan looked back at him and for the first time Dean thought he might have seen a flicker of something more than cold-blooded logic. “I do not know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel didn’t wait for the EMH to reach him. He dashed through the organized chaos of sickbay gathering what he needed as he went. Emergency medkit. Anti-grav gurney. Nurse. Hyposprays full of modified nanoprobes.

Nearly every bio-bed was filled and four other EMHs identical to the one that had been summoned to the transporter room for the Captain were filtering through the contingent of nurses and aides that bounced around the sickbay tending to the bumps, scrapes, lacerations, bruises, concussions and broken bones that had occurred during their mad run from Vendor System. Castiel ducked and dodged through them all, pulling the startled nurse with him and the gurney. He didn’t have to tell people to get out of his path, they jumped out of it with shocked expressions.

Castiel took off running down the corridor, anit-grav gurney providing the proverbial push bar he required to send personnel skittering out of his path and flattening themselves to the wall, for the turbolift closest to the sickbay and waited impatiently. He pulled what he wanted out of the medkit and then shoved it at the nurse who took it with a noise of surprise at his abruptness and began trying to push all the disarrayed bits into the case.

When the turbolift doors opened with the EMH carrying Erin, he was ready, if terribly worried. Cass got a close look at Erin then, it was easy to see the puncture marks popped cleanly through the body armor. One before and four behind her shoulder, blood welling out of the holes in a slow ooze. Her eyes were feverish and wild and she was covered in a film of frantic sweat. The growths caused by Undine cell infection pulsed faintly as they continued to grew up the side of her neck. Her breathing was coming in quick gasps. She was in very obviously in pain and distress and exhibiting all the signs of an adrenergenic storm, including disoriented mania.

“I have to get to the bridge!” she insisted as loudly as she could manage. She hit at the EMH as if it would make a difference with her useable hand balled into a fist.  The EMH politely ignored her flailing and shifted her from his arms onto the gurney. He carefully avoided touching anyone else lest the cells that had infected Erin, spread to them. Infection by Undine cells was treatable but it was not pretty. Castiel could see the sickly looking yellowish tissue growths the cells produced to consume what they were infecting growing from beneath the collar of her body armor. Resembling rapidly growing plant roots, they formed very quickly.

Luckily, since the Undine were a known threat every starship carried a ready supply of modified Borg nanoprobes designed to emit the same biochemical signature as the Undine cells to prevent their destruction before they could destroy the cells. Unluckily, the treatment took time to work and the Undine cells would instant neutralize anything given to the patient other than the nanoprobes. Worse, someone infected by Undine cells was incapable of being knocked out or relieved of their pain while the cells were present. They’d only neutralize the analgesic or sedative within seconds, leaving the patient in excruciating pain and completely conscious in the mean time.

In Erin’s current state, unable to give her anything for the condition she’d beamed down with--which Castiel still didn’t understand the source of and which was verging on killing her where she lay—she could die simply because he couldn’t treat the preexisting condition until he’d eradicated the Undine cells. She was already excreting far too much adrenaline and norepinephrine, battle would have caused another surge, pain and injury another, leading to a cascade effect that caused the adrenergic storm, leading to myocardial infarction… that led to cardiac arrest and then massive widespread system failure and ultimately death.  Not to mention the possibility of Central Nervous System collapse thrown in there somewhere due to the unfathomable elevated synaptic firing she had been exhibiting. The only plus was that with her executive functions hyper stimulated as they were, it might serve to give her a little more time than without it.

That Erin was physically fighting the EMH gave the awkward doctor some measure of comfort. If she was fighting, she had a chance. That she was fighting at all infected by an Undine and in the middle of a heart attack was astounding. Then again, if he knew Erin Winchester, she’d go to her grave kicking and screaming the whole way even if there was no hope of her surviving.

“I have to get to the bridge!” she gasped again, swatting uselessly at the EMH as he strapped her onto the gurney.  

Cass winced and his face pinched. He swallowed hard with worry.  Unlike a Vulcan, Cass had no problem admitting or showing that he had emotions. He did not repress them, nor did he seek to eliminate them. He simply didn’t understand why others got emotional about things he didn’t. He didn’t understand others emotions. He definitely had his own.

“Her blood pressure is rising rapidly Doctor as are pulse and heart rate,” the EMH warned as Cass pressed one of the hyposprays containing the modified nanoprobes to his own neck, essentially inoculating himself against Undine cell infection for about fifteen minutes. Then he tossed one to the nurse who fumblingly caught it out of the air. “Use that.”

The nurse obeyed without question though she looked slightly confused. Cass supposed that was because he was about to go against protocol for an Undine attack and treat the patient hands on instead of using an EMH.

His worry did nothing for his bedside manner. “I told you this would happen. You’re having a heart attack.” His face was grim as he pushed a hypospray of nanoprobes against Erin’s throat with a hiss and they took off again for sickbay. As they ran alongside the growths, that had formed turned Borg assimilating gray and then faded to reveal normal skin.

It was a step in the right direction but only a step. She’d have to be treated with more nanoprobe injections over the course of the next three days and in the interim no medication in the galaxy would work on her. The Undine cell infection though horrid was the least of her worries, it was its impediment to the treatment of her as yet unidentified condition that was the concern.  

Cass opened up his tricorder and started passing his hand scanner over her as they plunged down the corridor and went white. Before he could do anything about what he saw there, Erin seized his wrist and nearly dragged him down onto the gurney with her. “Cass, I have to get to the bridge... war…thousands of innocent people…” she rambled madly. Then she cried out in agony going rigid as her eyes widened.

“Erin?’ Cass asked frantic. She didn’t respond. “She’s going into cardiac arrest!”

Erin made a single choking sound before her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. He didn’t need his tricorder to tell him that the Captain’s heart had just stopped beating. He grabbed her body armor and without caring that someone was bound to be shocked at his inhuman strength, wrenched the front of it open, followed by her uniform jacket.  The EMH paid no attention but the nurse gasped.

They careened through the sickbay doors and people dodged masterfully as the EMH rushed the gurney toward the containment area. They oozed back into the gap left behind with hushed whispers of confusion and upset. Had that been the Captain? What was going on?

The gurney came to a stop and Cass tore Erin’s undershirt clear of her thoracic area. “Cardiac Stimulator!” he barked at the nurse who scrambled to obey, thrusting the device at him.

Cass hastily programmed it for full charge and stuck it over the Captain’s heart before pressing the discharge button. “Clear!” Erin’s body convulsed, arcing up off the gurney in response to the electrical charge.

The nurse was fumbling her tricorder into order and waving the hand scanner over the Captain as the EMH stepped to set the quarantine field per protocol. Cass didn’t even notice the buzz as the field went up and the EMH stepped back through it, a trait that no flesh and blood being was capable of.

“No response,” the nurse said.

Cass pushed the stimulator’s charge up another notch and activated it again. He didn’t bother with ‘Clear’ again he simply looked at the nurse the instant Erin’s form stopped seizing under the brutal ministration of the cardiac stimulator.

The nurse shook her head dismally.

Cass activated the stimulator a third time. “Don’t you die on me, Erin,” he ordered the prone woman’s body gruffly, fiercely but inside Doctor Castiel Novak was terrified.

 

***

“Her heart just…gave out,” Cass said to Dean who was standing, along with Lorian, in the interior of his office. Sickbay was more or less empty now. Only a few patient’s had injuries substantial enough to require monitoring and all of them were asleep.  The only sound other than their voices was the soft whir of equipment and the pinging of biofunction monitors.

Dean’s face tightened drastically and he cast his gaze through the transparent aluminum windows that almost enclosed the space to the containment area beyond, where Erin lay, her body still as stone beneath the cylinder of the biobed’s sensors and stabilization network. 

“Will she live?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Cass tilted his head back and forth in an indecisive way. “If she can stay alive until the nanoprobes can rid her body of the Undine cells then yes, probably. She’s breathing on her own but a cardiac stimulator is making her heart beat for her.  Her heart seized and stopped. It took five tries to restart it. There was major damage to the cardiac muscle.” He shrugged slightly and tried his very best to look consoling. “It would be a fairly simple procedure to repair it under normal circumstances but as long as the Undine cells are present I can do nothing.”

The Vulcan Science Officer listened intently his gaze never wandering but Dean’s stayed fixed on the figure in the containment bay behind a quarantine field. The First Officer shook his head. “I just don’t understand it. She’s always been healthy as a horse. She can outlast half the crew in a marathon or a sparring match. For her heart to just stop like that. That’s not a regular symptom of Undine cell infection.”

Cass drew in a slow breath and prepared to tell Dean the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help him…whatever deity might be willing to extricate him from the First Officer’s wrath when he was done.

“Erin was already sick, possibly dying, before she beamed down.”

Dean snapped around to look at him wide eyed. “What?” he said flatly then his shock transmuted into barely retrained fury. “And you _let_ her? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t _she_ tell me?”

“Because I respect patient-doctor confidentiality. Because she knew you'd go off half-cocked, insist she be relieved, and drive the Federation into a shooting war with the Romulans. And because until yesterday I didn’t know how serious it was and by then we were already in Romulan space on a shady mission with an even shadier Admiral.  She begged me not to. She didn’t want to hand Admiral Zelle the excuse she wanted to relieve her of command on a silver platter so she could start a war. It would have undermined everything she’d done trying to keep the upper hand,” Castiel explained and hoped the First Officer would understand. “You know how private she is, Dean. If she’d told you, you would have pushed and pried without relenting until you worried her to death.”

“That wasn’t your call. You are the Chief Medical Officer on board this ship. Your job is to ensure the health of this crew instead you jeopardized her life, this ship and the entire crew. I should have you thrown in the brig and court-martialed!” Dean growled viciously.

“That’s your right,” Cass said firmly. “But I didn’t endanger the ship or the rest of the crew. I made a judgment call. At no point was Erin mentally incapable—if anything she was operating above normal mental capacity--and if circumstances hadn’t been so dire I would have relieved her of command. Though I despise this subjective hierarchy Starfleet insists upon…I _am_ the Chief Medical Officer and that means in medical matters I outrank you. Nor, if I recall, does a Captain have to validate her command decisions to her First Officer before she carries them out.”

Lorian arched one brow and his expression turned inward deeply. Dean, however, was spitting mad, his face growing red and a vein in his forehead bulging with anger.

“You call suicide a command decision?!”

“In this case, yes. She wasn’t trying to die. She did everything asked of her, took every precaution available but she was trying to prevent a war. She was protecting the four hundred people on this ship and attempting to protect anyone else caught in this god-forsaken mission. This is your problem Dean. You can’t see the big picture. You never have,” Cass said shaking his head at Dean in disappointment. “And lately it’s as if you have no faith in her. Even now, your argument isn’t about _her,_ it’s about you and your right to know so you can decide what to do _with_ _her_. She’s not a possession, Dean.”

Dean looked as if Cass had slapped him and appeared to be rapidly building to returning the favor.

 “Gentleman, this line of conversation will not get us anywhere,” Lorian interceded calmly. “It is neither productive nor progressive.” He looked to Cass. “What ailment was the Captain suffering from prior to the Undine attack?”

Dean gritted his teeth at the Vulcan but sensibly kept his tongue for once. Cass shrugged helplessly at Lorian.

“I don’t know. I have scoured every medical encyclopedia, journal, textbook, bible and thesis in the quadrant and I can find nothing that matches her symptoms. The only thing I do know is that if it keeps up, it will kill her.”

“But you thought it wasn’t worth mentioning…” Dean seethed at Cass.

“Commander, while I understand your terribly human emotional upheaval to some degree it is in no way helping the Captain. However you feel, will not save her. Reason may. Might I suggest you could alleviate some of your distress if you would govern your emotions and focus on the problem at hand,” Lorian said before Dean could go off on another tirade at Cass. The Doctor found himself somehow bemused that his ‘savior from wrath’ was a guy with pointed ears that would have looked more appropriate on Dean—along with a pair of horns--at the moment.

Dean snarled at him hotly for an instant, during which Lorian looked back at him placidly. Then the First Officer seemed to get a grip on himself, running his hands through his bristly golden brown hair and nodding while drawing in a deep breath. “You’re right.”

The Vulcan inclined his head by way of acknowledgment and then returned his attention to the doctor. “You said that the Captain seemed to be operating at increased mental capacity. Please elaborate.”

“The rate of synaptic firing in her sub-cortical region is significantly increased and the areas of the brain associated with memory and executive function are hyper-aroused,” Cass said clinically, happy to return to the problem at hand instead of arguing the emotional content. He felt it. Supremely. But unlike Dean whose reaction recently was to react with emotional upset instead of sense, Cass’s was to find the root of the problem and then fix it.

“But that wouldn’t cause a heart attack,” Dean said finally focusing instead of reacting.

“No. It wouldn’t on its own and it may be in no way connected but her adrenaline, norepinepherine and cortisol levels have been steadily and alarmingly increasing for more than a week. Her cardiovascular system and central nervous system had begun rapidly degrading as of this morning.”

“A week? This has been going on since before we got this assignment?” Dean said his temper starting to flare. Cass hastened to explain before Dean’s temper got the better of him.

“You already know she was showing signs of being overstressed, Dean. It started as nightmares. Not surprising given all the stress she’s been under, that we’ve all been under. Counselor Vajgrt didn’t think it was abnormal for her to be having them given the circumstances so we tried prazosin to prevent the nightmares but it didn’t work. I even tried a theragen derivative but it was useless too. Which I do not understand, she shouldn’t have been capable of dreaming.”

“Did she say what the nightmares were about?” Dean pressed. Cass merely looked at him as if he should have known better than to ask.

“Of course she didn’t.” Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you have no idea what could be causing this?”

Cass shook his head again. “None.”

“Fascinating,” Lorian said with a note of awe in his voice.

Dean looked at him sharply. “’Fascinating’? Your Captain is on death’s doorstep, no one knows why and all you can think of to say is ‘fascinating’? May I remind you that she wouldn’t be in this condition if she hadn’t stayed to save you? You’re half human. Don’t you have any damn feelings about that?”

“It _is_ fascinating, Commander,” Lorian said with arched brow that said he didn’t know why Dean didn’t find it fascinating as well. “I am acutely aware of what the Captain did and I am immeasurably grateful but I cannot change what is.” 

Dean scoffed in disgust at the Vulcan and looked at Cass. “How long before the Undine cell treatment is complete?”

“Three days,” Cass said regretfully. The First Officer’s expression grew grim again and he nodded. He must have seen the doubt in Cass’s eyes, the worry he kept so well controlled.

“She’ll make it. It’s Erin. She’s too stubborn to die,” he said more to convince himself than anything else. “Use that big brain of yours and figure out what’s wrong with her, then fix it. That’s an order.”

Cass nodded, unwilling to say that he had already tried everything he could think of, that he was at the end of his rope. He firmly believed he could treat what was going on but he had no idea how to cure it nor did he know how long medical science could outrun biology.

“Can I see her?” Dean asked then, his voice sounding terribly vulnerable.

“For a minute,” Cass said. “But she’s conscious in there and in a lot of pain. Don’t go chastising her. I don’t know how much she is cognizant of around her, but I won’t have you upsetting my patient.”

Dean nodded fractionally. “Understood.” He looked to Lorian. “You may return to the bridge.”

“I request permission to speak with the doctor privately. My altercation with the Undine caused some physical damage,” the Vulcan said.

Dean looked confused. “You seem fine.”

“Vulcan mental discipline for which we are trained from childhood, Commander.  It is possible to stop the sensation of pain for a time. I believe the Undine fractured my right clavicle.”

It was then both of the other men realized Lorian held his right arm very still. Dean gawked at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

The Vulcan arched a brow at him. “At the time my services were needed on the bridge and the doctor had _other_ concerns. It seemed logical to defer my treatment until such time as it would not interfere with my duties or his.”

Dean looked slightly ashamed and no little shocked. “Permission granted,” he said and then ducked out of the office to see Erin.

Cass watched him a moment as the First Officer gravitated to the containment bay, placing his hand on the wall as close to the quarantine field as he dared. “Fight it Erin,” he said with a strident air.

“If we could conduct this in a more discreet location I would be most appreciative,” Lorian said to the doctor. Cass turned away from the scene. There were some things that belonged between only two people and this was one of them. That Dean’s undying loyalty and friendship for Erin went far beyond the fact that she was his Captain was widely known but few knew exactly how deep it ran. He nodded to Lorian and they ventured to a more secluded part of the sickbay, away from the slumbering patients and Erin. They could still see the Captain and her worried First Officer but they were ostensibly out of hearing range (at least for Castiel--Vulcan hearing was much sharper than a human’s) and both kept their gazes averted.

Once the Vulcan was seated on a biobed, Cass went to work using a tricorder and hand scanner to confirm the Science Officer’s suspicions. He made a noise as the tricorder gave him back a reading.

“You were spot on,” he said. “Medial stress fracture of the right clavicle….with no bruising or inflammation. Another Vulcan technique I’m guessing?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Still, it’s no replacement for medical science,” Cass chastised lightly as he went to pick up a laser scalpel to cut Lorian’s uniform from his right shoulder.

“On the contrary, Doctor. Should I choose to do so I am perfectly capable of facilitating the proper healing techniques to knit the bone without your assistance.” He looked at the laser scalpel. “That will not be necessary.” He began removing his uniform jacket in a very precise and careful manner.

“If you’re so capable of fixing it yourself why did you want me to do it?” Cass said slightly offended.

“I did not express a desire for you to render medical assistance, Doctor. I said that I wished to speak with you privately. However, in the interest of time and the attention I will need to devote shortly to assisting you with the Captain I will accept whatever aid you deem necessary so I will not have to divide my focus,” Lorian explained dispassionately. He set aside his uniform jacket neatly and began the process of carefully removing his undershirt to expose the injured area.

“Assist me?” Cass said confused. “You just said you’re not a doctor.”

“And so I am not. That being said I do hold far more experience in fields you have very little or no knowledge of. It is that experience I believe is pertinent to the situation.” He set aside his undershirt. “You may proceed.”

Cass blinked and it took him a beat to pick up an osteoregenerator. He flicked it on and hesitated. “This will hurt without an analgesic.”

“I am aware of that but I prefer not to be inhibited,” Lorian said. Cass blinked again and shook his head.

“Have it your way,” he said and reached forward grasping the Vulcan’s shoulder firmly to align the bone with one hand and begin repair with the other. Lorian didn’t even flinch as Cass worked.

“You are remarkably strong for a human,” Lorian observed, a slight deepening of his voice the only indication Cass had that the Vulcan could actually feel pain.

“Everybody’s got their talents,” Cass said dismissively, quick to deflect anything that might lead the Vulcan down the path to figuring out that he was not a ‘normal’ human for fear of the ostricization that he would suffer if it became widely known that he was genetically enhanced. Too many people still associated genetic manipulation with Augments like the notorious and blood thirsty Khan Noonien Singh and with that association came fear and suspicion, warranted or not.  Lorian politely did not delve further though he did raise one brow fractionally for an instant.

“So if you don’t believe that what’s wrong with Erin is medical what do you think it is?” he asked as he passed the osteoregenrator over the relevant area.  It cast a reddish light on the Vulcan’s very faintly green under-toned skin.  

“I do not argue that the Captain is experiencing substantial medical problems but I believe they are symptoms, not a cause. That does not in any way detract from your observation that those symptoms will kill her if not stopped,” Lorian explained.

“And you think the cause is?” Cass pressed.

“I hesitate to say until I have gathered empirical evidence to support my belief.”

“Well guess then.”

“Vulcans do not guess,” Lorian insisted.  Cass rolled his eyes and lowered the osteoregenerator for a moment.

“Then give me a hint.”

The Vulcan looked Cass squarely in the eye then, his demeanor tremendously serious.  “If I am correct Doctor what is going on with the Captain is of a very delicate and personal nature. As you have already pointed out the Captain is a very private person. I would be remiss if I exposed her privacy without cause. Vulcans take privacy, especially something of this potential nature, gravely serious. I cannot in good conscious ‘give you a hint’, unless I am absolutely certain.  Moreover, if I speculated now without knowing for absolute certain that I am correct, the treatment you would be ethically obliged to render based on that speculation could very well kill her in her current condition if I am wrong. In any event, it will be three days before anything can be done. You have admitted that you cannot find an explanation. I may be able to. As you humans say, you have nothing to lose by allowing me to try.”

“You’re asking me to trust you?” Cass said.

“In the human vernacular, yes Doctor. I am asking you to trust me.”

Cass reactivated the osteoregenerator and sighed heavily. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

“Thank you, Doctor. I require unrestricted access to the Captain’s medical file for as far back as it goes even information that might have been classified for your eyes only. In addition, I would be most appreciative if you could conduct a full brain scan with an adrenal co-study and have the results sent to my quarters upon completion. A mind meld would be much more efficient but it is presently too dangerous for either party so I will have to resort to more mundane methods to determine if my theory is correct.”

Cass scoffed lightly as he finished mending Lorian’s clavicle and put away the osetoregenerator. “You don’t ask for much do you? You claim not to want to expose her privacy and yet that’s exactly what you are asking me to do.”

“I realize that it is something of a contradiction in terms but I assure you it is necessary. I swear on my honor as a Vulcan never to reveal anything I learn to anyone without permission to do so,” Lorian said sincerely.

“From what I understand of Vulcans that’s a pretty strong oath,” Cass said startled that the Science Officer would offer it so readily. Vulcans took their oaths deadly serious—quite literally. If Lorian broke his oath he would not only be dishonoring himself and Erin, he’d have disgraced his entire family and made himself subject to harsh punishment and permanent exile.  “Alright. Give me two hours. You can get dressed now. Bone’s mended but don’t go getting into any Undine brawls again for a couple of days.”

The Vulcan inclined his head respectfully. “Your assistance is most appreciated.” Then he gently but not as gently as he first had pulled on his undershirt and uniform jacket. When he was done and as Cass tidied up the area the Vulcan cast his eye toward the containment bay, his eyes settled on Erin for the first time since he’d come in. He looked very pensive.

“She saved my life, possibly at the cost of her own three times over. I do not understand it. It was a highly illogical thing to do.”

Cass chuckled then. He might be socially inept but there were some things he understood. “But it was the human thing to do.” Lorian looked at him with one arched brow again with an expression that Cass was beginning to equate with the Vulcan thinking he’d grown a second head. “She cared if you lived or died more than she cared about herself.”

“That is still illogical.”

“It’s who she is.”

The Vulcan’s brow furrowed deeply then and there was a flash of what Cass would have called shock, if Vulcans felt such things.  Cass might have commented on it but Dean had drifted away from the containment area toward them.  He shook his head sadly as he reached them.

“If we’d only listened when she said she felt like something was terribly wrong with all this.”

Lorian’s expression went thoughtful again. “You may be more right than you know Commander.”

 

***

 

S’chn T’gai Lorian, son of Scott and T’Lyra of Vulcan found that as he retired to his quarters later in the day the scan results and records he had requested of the Chief Medical Officer were waiting for him on his computer console.

The Human/Vulcan hybrid took the time to go around the living area of his quarters lighting the much-used candles that were an integral part of Vulcan meditation practices, from the simple golden pyramid candle to the plain white wax ones ensconced in intricately wrought holders that held aesthetically pleasing forms that were both beautiful and geometrically perfect.

As a Vulcan, he did not harbor the predilection for collecting knick-knacks for sentimental reasons such as humans did. Each object he possessed served some purpose. That they were functional did not preclude that they should be pleasing and so his private quarters were both. Vulcans took the combination of logic, science and beauty very seriously. Pride would be the wrong word to describe it since pride was an emotion that no Vulcan would willingly cop to but serious fit well.

Aside from the candles his quarters were appointed in much the way his personal rooms on Vulcan were. Sparse but not utilitarian. Other than the usual seating areas most starship quarters possessed there was a large stone artpiece carved with the IDIC symbol—one of the basic tenants of Vulcan philosophy--and its meaning denoted in etched spirals of the Vulcan language hung on the wall. A native tapestry or two hung nearby. A tridimensional chess set sat on the low table in the center of the seating area along with a kal-toh set.

On one of the side tables stood the carefully constructed box in which Lorian’s panflute lay safely cradled. Unlike many Vulcans, in his youth he had chosen to learn an Earth instrument rather than the traditional Vulcan Lute or _ka'athyra_ in honor of his father’s Human heritage. Lorian’s mother had been reluctant but had accepted the choice when it was demonstrated that the panflute was as mathematically complex to play as the _ka’athyra_ and was not unsuitably evocative of emotion. She had become quite fond of Lorain’s adaptations of Vulcan music to the instrument, calling it an interesting exercise in logic.

There were other objects around the room, most of cultural significance to him alone or things that had struck Lorian as eminently logical in their construction but he paid no attention to them as he finished lighting candles, leaving only the Vulcan meditation lamp unlit. He did not require the flames to concentrate on the task at hand. That was a simple matter of scientific research applied in a logical mathematical manner. He had lit the candles in an effort to remind himself of what and who he was.

A Vulcan who followed the philosophical premise of _c’thia—_ a concept humans commonly misinterpreted as merely logic that had the deeper connotation of reality-truth, what is _\--_ as put forth by the great Vulcan philosopher Surak. And by extension of _a'rie'mnu—_ another concept misconstrued by humans to mean lack of emotion or suppression of emotion when the word actually meant passion’s mastery. Both were integral parts of the experience of _a’Tha_ or the direct experience of the being or force of the universe. The closest human approximation was immanence or God, though to suggest that the concept was of a religious nature would be incorrect. Vulcans did not have a religion as such. Their dedication to logic was the closest equivalent that a human would understand. The worship of Gods had long since been abandoned on Vulcan.

Lorian found himself conflicted and without _a'rie'mnu,_ he could not experience _a’Tha_ in an unbiased way and thus reach _c’thia_. That he was conflicted was disquieting enough but it would interfere with his ability to objectively analyze the situation with the Captain and that was a transgression he could not and would not allow himself to make. Which doubled back on the fact that he was conflicted to begin with. Humans had a term for it--a vicious cycle. Lorian found it terribly apt.

When he had first met Captain Winchester, he had thought her overly emotional and illogical. But in short order he had become aware that while she was governed by her emotions, as all humans seemed tragically to be, she was also flawlessly logical and adhered to a code of ethics that no Vulcan could have argued with even if how she implemented it would have had her labeled very rude by Vulcan standards. To breach social protocol was taboo to a Vulcan but in the pursuit of _c’thia_ one could not argue the breach’s necessity nor it’s logic. Above all else, one must adhere to the truth, in whatever form it took.

The astonishing mix of overt emotion and logic he had found had intrigued Lorian and so he had thought nothing of his sudden fascination for the Captain. It was quite acceptable to be intrigued by something that presented a dichotomy and to then work to understand how it could be so. He had dismissed her declarations that she had a ‘bad feeling’ about their mission as simply the unfortunate result of her inability to master her emotions. Fear was one of the most insidious and thus one of the most difficult to control.

But then she had persuaded him to spar with her in the holodeck and Lorian had begun to doubt his original analysis. At first he had been surprised by her ability to keep up with him. She had already been winded by her previous session with her holographic twin (a situation that might shed light on the current one) and yet she had nearly been able to match him despite his superior speed. He had restrained his strength but not his speed. Had she not indulged herself in a moment of human arrogance at having gotten the upper hand before the computer declared the winner, she would have beaten him.

It had been as if she already knew what he was going to do before he did it by a large enough margin to counter it. His superior speed had been the only thing that had led the match to be as long as it had been. When he had turned that human arrogance against her, pinning the Captain, they had touched skin to skin and he’d found himself more unnerved than ever by something he did not have a name for.

As a touch telepath, Lorian resisted touching others to prevent the flash of the others mind that came with skin to skin contact, even in so brief a gesture as a handshake. All Vulcans did. It was not only socially unacceptable and intrusive to the other person, it was intrusive to him to be inundated with the thoughts and emotions of anyone he touched on a constant basis against his will…or theirs. Vulcan social and ethical moors strictly protected the privacy of others. It was a necessity among a race of telepaths.

He had not received thought or emotion from the Captain when he had touched her as he might have expected but what he had received had evoked emotion. The brief flash had been…recognition? Lorian couldn’t think of what to call it but it had doubled his fascination with the Captain. Initially and up until the altercation with the Undine on Vendor Station Lorian had dismissed it as possibly being _shon-ha’lock_ —the Engulfment or what humans called love at first sight. A shameful thing to allow to happen but it could be rectified.

But he had not experienced the other symptoms of _shon-ha’lock_ except to feel overwhelmed by whatever he was feeling. At no point had he become so obsessed with the Captain as to be unable to think logically. He had not had his thoughts dominated with thoughts of her in that way. He had not lost sleep or lost his appetite. His routine had not suddenly begun to seem wanting or ludicrous. If anything it had become more satisfying.

It disturbed him tremendously. Lorian had always been harsh on himself, as had his mother and his teachers, when it came to his ability to control his emotions because it was generally assumed that because he was half-human he was naturally predisposed to them in a way unacceptable by Vulcan tradition. So he had utilized the _t’an s’at_ , the intellectual deconstruction of emotional patterns in an effort to understand what it was. He had come up blank.

Which then led to him becoming even more curious about Captain Winchester. He could not after all rid himself of an emotion he could not understand nor even give a name to.  Vulcans did not approve of the excessive allowance of any emotion save curiosity, which was actively encouraged. He had felt no shame in indulging what was by his very nature the logical course of action.

When she had exhibited the same subtle symptoms as he –a headache--after the Admiral’s arrival onboard the _Devil’s Trap_ he had begun to suspect the truth though logic decried it so loudly that he firmly set out to dissuade himself of the notion. It was not impossible but it had been vastly improbable.

 As the mission progressed and with it the Captain’s vehement insistence that something was wrong with it, her emphasis such that there was a great weight behind _wrong,_ that it seemed she could not convey accurately to anyone around her. He had begun to believe that the improbability had started to become an impossibility and yet he could not ignore it.

When the Admiral had finally been revealed as an Undine, he might have dismissed all of it as simply the undoubted telepathic influence of the Undine on a subtle level to manipulate the mission to go as it had desired by influencing the emotions and motivations of the senior staff without their knowledge. He might have…except for what he had witnessed during the fight with the Undine which was very literally impossible. But no Vulcan would ever deny what was, _c’thia_ , simply because it was impossible. That would be even more illogical than accepting that the impossible had occurred.

There was no denying that when the Undine had telepathically assaulted the Captain, commiting _kae'at k'lasa—_ mind rape _—_ thatthe Captain, had fought back with a telepathic assault of her own. Lorian had felt it wash over him, uncontained and wild.

Human telepaths were not unheard of. They did occur on rare occasions. But for one to be able to fight back with no training was not possible. The untrained mind should have given way to the trained one and broken. Instead, the Captain had pushed back with a telepathic burst that had made even the telepathically superior Undine scream. An act born of instinct and desperation most certainly but suddenly the impossible collided with what was.

Lorian had accepted that but with the Doctor’s revelation of the Captain’s condition, a condition that had been growing worse over the course of more than a week, Lorian had been forced to stack the _impossible_ on top of the impossible.  He’d never had his logic so thoroughly challenged as it was now and the fact that he still had no name for what he had felt when he had touched the Captain did not help. The fact that all of this had come to light while the Captain had been saving his life, the first illogical choice he’d observed her make and one that left him with yet another emotion he had no desire to have—made it more vexing and alarming than ever.

The only way to answer all his questions and thus to aid himself or the Captain was to analyze all available data in a scientific and logical manner and then surrender himself to _a’Tha,_ which would lead him to understanding and enable Lorian to regain _a'rie'mnu,_ which in turn led to _c’thia,_ the truth of reality _._ Vulcans did not believe in fate or destiny. Not as humans did. Both words and all of their synonyms suggest an inevitability that cannot be avoided or chosen. What they did believe in was a faith that the universe would turn out as it should and that one had the choice to take the path that _a’Tha_ indicated for the good of the universe or that they could choose not to take it and thus increase the entropy of the universe.

Vulcan philosophy stringently dictated that one must choose the path away from entropy. To be Vulcan, meant to adopt a philosophy, a way of life, which was logical and beneficial. However, that was not always the case as one had the choice to do as one willed.

Lorian was devoutly against entropy and was a follower of Spock and Surak’s methodologies. He would not fight _a’Tha_ simply because it caused him to question everything he knew about logic. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Nothing unreal exists.

So the candles lit, Lorian moved to the little desk all senior officers were allotted as part of the furnishings of their quarters and began his research. Thus it went for two and a half days. When he was not on duty he was in his quarters buried in research, for time was short and the Captain’s condition had not improved.

Commander Singer seemed content enough to spend his off duty hours in sickbay mournfully holding watch over Captain Winchester as if it would somehow heal her. Lorian dedicated himself totally to his goal, repressing the need for food or sleep through learned techniques so that even those basic needs did not interfere with his work.

Repairs had been made on the _Devil’s Trap_ and Commander Singer was wisely maintaining communications silence until they reached Federation space in an effort to avoid detection by any lurking Romulan ships that might be looking for them which had evaded Lorian’s tachyon grid. Quantum slipstream however proved to be unavailable as Chief Engineer Harvelle strove to rectify a problem with the EPS conduits induced by damage from the last attack that had not been identifiable until after the other repairs had been completed. She was still in the process of tracking down the origination point.

The mood of the crew was not a happy one and tensions ran high both due to the possibility of an additional confrontation with the Romulans, their disastrous mission and because the fate of the Captain hung in the balance.  Lorian would likely have fled to his quarters to avoid the press of it even if he were not consumed by his work for his own mood was enough to deal with.

So it was that when logic finally did as logic would and revealed the unarguable answer to him, that Lorian allowed himself an instant of uncontrolled emotion. He sat and stared at the computer console with unmitigated and unveiled awe that was equal parts wonder, delight at having discovered something that was supposed to be impossible and acute alarm. _Expect the unexpected_ , indeed.

If his father had been here Lorian knew he’d have had a one word summary for it spoken in a deceptively soft and flat tone. “Shit.”

Lorian settled for, “Fascinating.”

The Vulcan had cross-referenced, cross-correlated, crosschecked, analyzed and computed everything he could lay hands on that might have any bearing on the situation at hand starting with the scans he had asked the doctor to provide of the Captain’s brain and all medical data available.

He began by comparing her current brain scan to all previous ones and found nothing he had not expected to find. The increased synaptic firing in the Captain’s subcortex  it’s increased size correlated with his theory that she was a telepath. He even compared it to his own brain scans since he was intimately familiar with them and was a telepath himself to confirm it and then to sample scans of other telepathic races. Without a doubt, the Captain was a telepath.

How she had managed not to be identified as such long before now was a mystery to him. But he had a theory which he would investigate in due time.

The results of his research did not explain the increased executive and memory functions nor the heightened adrenaline, norepinepherine and cortisol levels. It did not explain the nightmares she had experienced even though drugged with theragen and prazosil. So Lorian dug deeper.

He picked through every medical record available for indications of the activity in a prior brain scans and found none. Which aligned itself with his notion of how the Captain had gone unidentified. But still no answer about the other parts. Lorian dug deeper still and began to search for records of other telepaths with the same or similar symptoms with attention to the fact that the only correlating factor might be sudden death. He found the few in existence and set them aside. He must first be sure his other notions were correct before he dared to confirm the first.

Lorian went through every single file Starfleet possessed on Captain Erin Winchester however obscure.

He discovered that in her youth and up until she had begun a dual track at the Academy, the Captain’s passion had not been command but science and art. She, as much as him, was a scientist. He had known she was one but how far back it went was enlightening.

As a child, the Captain had applied herself to her studies as diligently as any Vulcan child. Which was to say that she had thrown herself into it with complete dedication, pursuing knowledge in science, particularly computer science, from the time she was old enough to begin understanding mathematics.  She had been an accomplished equestrian competitor in the methods of Dressage and show jumping and studied Irish dance, which explained much of the Captain’s dexterity and nimbleness.

It was not until she was halfway through what Human’s once termed Middle School that the Captain had given up equestrian competition better apply herself to her academic studies and traded dancing for martial arts. She’d doubled her course load and prospered. It was even enough to daunt a Vulcan student. That was no small accomplishment for Vulcan children underwent schooling that made most Humans cringe in terror of such a task set to a mere child. It was a shame that she had given up her pursuit of the arts to allow time for it though.

By the time she was in High School, the Captain had so many courses that Lorian even wondered how she’d managed to handle them all though he had managed the same feat. But the Captain was human. He was a Vulcan. It was required of him. Had her father required it of her or had she chosen to do so? Records seemed to indicate it had been her choice to ‘burn the candle at both ends’.  It revealed a work ethic Lorian admired and explained the Captain’s dedication to duty.

Then there was a three-year gap between the time that the Captain graduated High School and was accepted to Starfleet Academy. Perhaps a period of time in which to decide what life course she wished to pursue. Vulcans did so though it was required of them much younger. But at no point did anything occur to suggest that the Captain was a telepath.

Upon being accepted to the Academy the Captain’s chosen track had been computer science with a minor in sociology. At the end of First Year exams, the Captain had undergone all the same tests that every cadet went through. She had been evaluated for her performance thus far and gone through the standard psychological reassessment at which point she was sent for testing for recommendation to the command track. She’d scored excellently and been asked to switch tracks but had instead dual tracked, unwilling to leave her passion for science behind. Lorian admired that as well. He could not have given up his life as a scientist for any reason and apparently neither could she.

The other test required of cadets completing their first year was a series of tests that rendered the cadet’s Esper rating. This rating gave a person’s psi-potential or potential ability for extra sensory perception. All cadets were required to take it, even those where telepathy, telekinesis, empathy or other psionic abilities were inherent. The scale was measured differently for them but for humans the scale rated from 0 to 100 with the mathematical average being 20. 

It was a known fact that humans had and rarely did exhibit the potential for psionic abilities ranging from telepathy and clairvoyance to fire starting, telekinesis, precognition and seeing through walls. But the potential rarely came to fruition. Only a handful of humans had ever had their potential become active and among those a still smaller portion through natural means. Most had been augmented by external forces like the Galactic Barrier which could ‘turn on’ latent psionic ability but inevitably killed the one it affected (or alternately forced someone to kill them before they went out of control). Lorian could count on one hand the number that had been natural since the foundation of Starfleet.

For individuals such as this their Esper rating ranged in the above average to well above average category with a mathematical value of 30 to 95. No one had ever tested above 95. To test at 100 would have been a guarantee of psionic potential. 

Most humans tested in the ‘normal’ category with a value of 20 to 29. A few more tested even lower in the 10 to 19 range making them ‘nulls’ or utterly devoid of psionic potential. But no one scored 0. It was a mathematical impossibility. Chance alone required an average of 20. Captain Winchester’s score was a glaring zero across the board.

The Academy had put her through the testing twice more to confirm it and she had still tested at zero.

Had science not progressed to the point it was today Lorian could have forgiven the fact that the Captain had been judged as being a psionic null based on her score. But with current methods in place and the fact that the Federation was replete with telepathic species of one nature or another it was astounding to him that no one had realized the implication.

A score of zero was never a score of zero. It was what was referred to as a false negative. For whatever reason, the Captain had effectively given all the wrong answers because she _did_ have high psi-potential. Any telepath would have known that and the information was available for reference if one so desired.

Lorian was intimately familiar with testing as a ‘null’. At the age of five, the point at which Vulcan children’s brains had developed enough that their telepathy began to be active, they started their telepathic training. Lorian had been so nervous that because of his half-human heritage--a fact he had been derided for in the extreme--that he would be a disappointment to his mother, that he had literally scared himself into being incapable of providing a correct answer on the much more rigorous Vulcan equivalent to Starfleet’s Esper rating. And been so ashamed of having had the emotions in the first place that it further inhibited him. If psionic ability had a black hole, it was the false negative.

However, it had been immediately recognized because Vulcan infants underwent the _Kan-Telan_ or child-parent bonding. Such a bond is not possible without the required telepathic ability and Vulcans were well acquainted with the possibility of a false negative result on the test.

Once Lorian had accepted that he was indeed Vulcan enough to have the same telepathic abilities as other Vulcans—despite being mocked and told he was nothing but a pathetic human with pointed ears, a _viltah_ , a half breed or one with tainted blood--he had moved past the self-induced trauma and received the training he needed.

The Captain had experienced such a trauma before or around the time that her own telepathic abilities would have come to bear and her records bore it out. Her mother’s death at the hands of Nero when she had been five years old.

It was the only explanation that was logical. For an untrained telepath would not make it to adulthood with their ability active without going insane. The constant press of others thoughts and emotions was too much. Vulcan politely offered the training to anyone who needed it and whose native species did not have the ability to provide but the last time a human telepath had been trained on Vulcan had been in the mid 2260s.

That no one realized that the Captain was a telepath left Lorain with a bad taste in his mouth. It was completely inexcusable. Even if by complete incompetence it had been missed during her Esper rating tests… it could not have been missed during her telepathic interrogation resistance training. The very nature of the test required another telepath to attempt to assault the participant’s mind while another instructed them in how to repel the attack. If a Vulcan was the one doing the assaulting it was usually in the form of _Tarul-etek._ The practice of hurling disturbing images at the recipient to test how well they could control their emotions. It was used for children on Vulcan but served well for species that were not normally telepathic while not being invasive. Betazoids preferred to hurl negative emotions and then the participant was required to overcome the alien emotions to prevent their own from ‘leaking out’.  The Captain had proved to be very apt at repelling the attacks. Someone should have noticed the unusual talent and her repressed telepathy.

It left Lorian with only one conclusion. Someone had deliberately not acknowledged it. But why? Lorian had a pretty good idea and now he pulled up the results from his Captain’s unexplained symptoms that had also occurred in other telepaths.

The results were definitive and confirmed that his Captain’s ‘bad feeling’ and suspicion that ‘something had been very wrong’ with their mission had not been uncontrolled emotion or a ‘hunch’.  It also explained how she could have dreams when drugs had inhibited the center of the brain responsible for dreaming. At least some of them hadn’t been dreams. So too did it explain the hyper-arousal of his Captain’s executive and memory functions.

Those with training survived. Those without died. None without training had survived past their early childhood, dying within weeks of their abilities becoming active, driven by their body’s natural fight or flight responses—triggered by the instinctive reaction to the danger they perceived--to literally die of stress. All of them had one thing in common. They were not just telepaths. They were precognitive telepaths.

There were two known precognitive species in the galaxy. The Yattho of the Delta Quadrant, who were precognitive but lacked telepathy and the Ocampa of the same quadrant, who were the only known species to be both telepathic and precognitive at the same time and even then it was not  species wide. The only documented case Lorian knew of had been Kes, the Ocampa who had served aboard the _USS Voyager_ during it’s time stranded in the Delta Quadrant. Shortly after she had begun to exhibit the ability, she had lost control of it—destabilizing at the subatomic level--and turned into a non-corporeal energy form that had nearly destroyed _Voyager_ before she could get off the ship.

Those with precognition but no telepathy occasionally popped up in other species as a sudden mutation or because of an external force. If they did not receive training, like their telepathic kindred, they went insane. Like Earth’s Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce.

Viable precognitive telepaths in any species were exceedingly rare because of their psionically volatile and unstable nature and Lorian could only recall it ever happening successfully once. Surak of Vulcan, the father of the Vulcan way of life, who had been completely trained in his telepathy before his precognitive abilities had awakened. It had been such a fluke that it had never happened before or since. Because he had been the first and only Vulcan with the ability and fathered no children, the ability had not passed to the rest of the species and so there were no precognitive Vulcans.

Had his Captain’s ability not been repressed, she would certainly have died as a child. But now, Lorian suspected the traumas of the last few weeks and ultimately culminating with the destruction of Vendor Station with all onboard and the telepathic assault of the Undine had triggered her repressed abilities—full blown and wholly untrained. Without immediate training or re-suppression, she would die and so Lorian knew what must be done.

He collected his findings onto a PADD and left his quarters. He left the fact that he had still not confirmed what he had felt when he touched Captain Winchester for another time as well as his inability to understand why she had illogically risked her own life to save his and the emotions it evoked. He also left his new theory about why his Captain’s precognitive telepathy had been deliberately ignored for when he could address himself to it more adequately. For now, he had more pressing concerns. None of it would matter if she died.

He had to resist the urge to sprint. There was still half a day before what must be done, could be done.

Lorian didn’t notice that he had ceased to think of Captain Winchester as _the_ Captain and had instead begun to think of her as _his_ Captain. Nor would he be able to recall in the future, at what point he had done so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	11. Chapter 11

Commander Lorian entered sickbay at an enforced sedate pace. Doctor Novak was near the containment bay with an EMH behind the quarantine field when Lorian arrived. The EMH had a PADD in one hand as he watched an image on the display over the motionless Captain’s head which depicted the microscopic modified nanoprobes latching onto Undine cells and then killing them. The EMH looked down at his PADD and keyed something into it with a grim expression before flipping the biobed display back to the primary vitals screen.

“Doctor,” Lorian announced himself. He kept his mind tightly shielded. He knew the Captain was conscious and so he didn’t wish to risk that her untrained telepathy would expose her to his thoughts inadvertently or him to hers in her current state. He did have a moment of concern over the fact that he had no idea if the Captain’s condition was enough to prevent her telepathy from allowing her to hear the unshielded thoughts of everyone around her and if it did what she had been hearing for the last two and a half days.

The Doctor looked over as the EMH stepped through the quarantine field and handed the Doctor the PADD he had been working on. The doctor held up a silencing hand that Lorian obeyed out of politeness as he surveyed the data the EMH had given him. His expression turned grim as well. He glanced up at the EMH who stood by patiently waiting and nodded. “That will be all. You can go.”

The EMH gave both the Doctor and Lorian a cordial head nod in return and said, “Computer deactivate EMH.” The holograph disappeared and the Doctor sighed, motioning for Lorian to head to his office.

“You just missed Dean. I ran him out about five minutes ago so I could treat Erin.”

“The Commander persists in his vigil?”

“He’d persist until he dropped from exhaustion if I let him,” the Doctor said. Lorian canted his head slightly and one brow arched. He could not understand the desire to sit by someone’s bedside in one’s off hours when it served no purpose. Surely, the Commander didn’t think mourning her before she had died was productive in any way or logical.

When they were out of hearing range of the containment bay Lorian said, “What is the Captain’s status?”

“That was the last dose of nanoprobes. Give it a few hours and I can actually _do_ something.”

“You are doing something,” Lorian pointed out.

“Standing around waiting is not doing something!” the Doctor snapped and immediately looked sheepish. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tense. Erin’s still fighting and the degradation of her cardiovascular and central nervous system has slowed down slightly but it’s still a steady progression. More than a few hours without effective intervention and we’ll lose her.”

“I understand the nature of your difficulty,” Lorian assured him. “You have served with the Captain for three years…”

“Longer than that…Erin, Dean, Sam and I all went to the academy together. We’re year mates. We’re not just crew, we’re friends.” The Doctor smiled wanly. “Erin was always the one who’d knock our heads together if we were slacking. I don’t think Dean would have made it through the academy without her constant motivation.”  He looked back toward the containment bay and snorted softly. “She was my first real friend at the academy or ever really. I don’t think _I’d_ have made it either if not for her. She never cared that I’m a social pariah or….,” The Doctor trailed off for an instant. “She’s the glue that held us all together.”  He looked back at Lorian and his expression was uncharacteristically sad. “So please tell me you have something.”

That made the Vulcan tilt his head a bit in consideration. It seemed that his Captain had been born a natural leader as well as scientist. He carefully made no inquiry as to what might have come after the Doctor’s ‘or’. He already suspected he knew based on the display of abnormal strength he had exhibited in setting Lorian’s clavicle. But it also gave him a new perspective from which to view the Captain and the crew and the potentially devastating effects it would have if she died.

The entire command structure might break down if they could not maintain their discipline. The others Lorian believed would be able to maintain their composure as well as humans ever did but he suspected the Commander might not. He exhibited far too desperate an emotional need for the Captain’s survival. Lorian did not approve and given the Captain’s past behavior he suspected she would not either.

“I have more than something Doctor,” Lorian said passing him the PADD he’d brought with him. “I have an answer.”

The Doctor all but snatched the PADD with hopeful desperation.

“10 cc’s of Lexorin, 3 times a day until I suggest discontinuation, should be sufficient to accomplish stabilization,” Lorian said as the Doctor looked over the PADD.

“Lexorin? But that’s for telepathic suppression,” the Doctor said looking at the Vulcan in confusion.

“Correct, Doctor,” Lorian said as the Doctor returned his eyes to the PADD and saw for himself what Lorian had found.  “Captain Winchester is a precognitive telepath. Lexorin will suppress her reawakened telepathy and thereby eliminate the problems with her continual secretion of adrenaline, norepinephrine and cortisol. It does temporarily diminish intelligence, however.”

“That might not be such a bad thing considering the way Erin is. Stupid people tend to be blissfully ignorant,” the doctor said and then looked at the PADD again incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Vulcans do not ‘kid’, Doctor.”

“I’m getting that,” the doctor muttered. “So we get her out of immediate danger, pump her full of Lexorin and then what?”

“We?” Lorian asked.

“Yes, ‘we’. I don’t know what to do with a newborn telepath. You’re the one with all the mind tricks,” the doctor said incredulously.

“They are not tricks…,” Lorian began to say but stopped himself when the Doctor looked at him hard. “Then ‘we,’ do what must be done.”

From there Lorian explained in great detail the steps that must be taken. Once the Undine cells were completely purged from the Captain’s system and she could be treated for her more serious underlying problem the doctor could perform the surgery necessary to repair her cardiovascular system and central nervous system. Then, once she had recovered from surgery and the Lexorin had given her mind time to recover from shock of the telepathic trauma of her abilities reawakening and the Undine’s telepathic assault, Lorian would take over.

As the one who had discovered his Captain’s nature, it was his responsibility as a Vulcan, as a fellow telepath, as the ship’s Second Officer, for his honor as a Vulcan and for more personal reasons that he would not reveal at this time and some of which he would not acknowledge, to train the Captain in the use and control of her telepathy. He was not certain he was prepared for the task but logic demanded and he answered. _C’thia_ would prevail, _a’Tha_ would not be denied, to do so would increase entropy in the universe and Lorian firmly believe that the entropy would be substantial perhaps devastating for entropy had already been increased exponentially by the actions of the Undine. The Captain’s death—the extropy that had attempted to fight the entropy the Undine had been bent on causing--would be its final tribute to disorder.

“Dean is not going to believe this,” the Doctor said shaking his head.

“You must not tell the Commander,” Lorian said quickly.

“I have to. He’s the acting Captain,” the Doctor said surprised. “He has to be notified of all serious medical issues with the crew. And more over, Erin’s his best friend. He’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Intentionally most likely not but unintentionally? May I remind you that I swore not to allow this to be revealed. I am bound by the Rules of Silences. I will not break my oath or allow someone else to break it for me. The Captain alone must decide to whom this information is revealed,” Lorian said very seriously, his voice dropping a full octave.

“It’s _Dean_ ,” the Doctor insisted.

Lorian placed his hands behind his back and looked at the doctor very pointedly. “Have you, in the moments between learning the Captain is a precognitive telepath and now, considered the ramifications of that information?”

“Ramifications?”

Lorian fought not to sigh. He found the doctor refreshingly easy to talk to since he was highly intelligent and not as prone to the emotional outbursts that most humans were but he had apparently hit an impasse with the doctor’s rationality and his emotions.

“The Captain is a precognitive telepath. She is also human. Telepaths are rare in the human species at best. Precognitive telepaths are unheard of. She will be rejected by her own species, feared, used, perhaps even condemned. Her privacy, her standing within Starfleet and her command of this ship would be at stake.”

The doctor shook his head. “That makes no sense. Humans don’t do that to any other telepathic race, why would Erin be any different?”

“Humans rarely make sense, Doctor. And while they accept other telepathic races without complaint they fear anything that upsets the definition they have set for themselves. Humans are not unique in that regard, most species do. Telepaths fall outside that definition and others… like yourself,” Lorian explained patiently.

The Doctor blinked and paled considerably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

“I believe you do Doctor. You are genetically enhanced, are you not?”

The Doctor became very stiff suddenly and Lorian hastened to assure him that he held no prejudice because of the Doctor’s nature. “Your exceptional strength gave it away though I doubt a less observant person would have noticed. The Rules of Silences also applies to my knowledge of you, Doctor. Your secret is safe with me. I do not harbor any discrimination because you are what you are. That would a violation of one of Vulcan’s basic tenants. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.  I too am different or have you managed to miss the fact that I am half human?”

The doctor relaxed again. “Thanks.”

Lorian struggled with the illogic of humans and their need to express emotional gratitude where none was required but in this instance, he decided humoring the doctor was more logical than prolonging the conversation to argue about it. “You are welcome, Doctor.”  Instead, he looked toward the containment bay again and felt the stirrings of what was unmistakably sympathy. “She will be outcast if or when this is revealed. Only such as we, can understand that kind of ostracization.”

The doctor looked at him and Lorian looked at him. They had a moment of perfect joint clarity between them, one being to another. Then the biobed started beeping earnestly, the pitch not the sort that indicated an alarm but the denotation of something completed. The doctor broke away from their moment of clarity to see to it, deactivating and re-erecting the quarantine field seamlessly.

He bustled around the bed, nearly hopping forward on the balls of his feet with anticipation. Lorian waited patiently. Finally, the doctor deactivated the quarantine field for a final time and left it that way. “The Undine cells have been eliminated.”

“When will you commence surgery?” Lorian asked as the doctor whisked by him and fetched hyposprays.

“Immediately,” the Doctor said hurrying back to the containment bay and the Captain. He keyed the hyposprays and administered three different ones in rapid succession. “Hydrocortilene, Inaprovaline and her first dose of Lexorin,” he explained as Lorian dared to venture closer. He peered down at the Captain.

She was very pale, making her golden blonde hair stand out vividly but she also looked very weak, deep shadows under her eyes and her skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat. Her eyes blinked at him in an unseeing manner, blurry and unfocused. Lorian lowered his shields a fraction to get a ‘feel’ of her. Not a mind probe, certainly not a mind meld, but more the general sense all telepaths could read from the beings around them when they were not fully shielded.

She was in too much pain and now too heavily drugged to realize anything going on around her, telepathically or otherwise but a fierce determination burned through it hazily. She would not give up. Lorian reestablished his mental shielding. “I will leave you to your work, Doctor,” Lorian said and gave the Captain one last glance before he left. “Recover quickly Captain. We have much to talk about, you and I.”

Over the communications system Commander Singer’s voice sounded. “All decks, prepare for Quantum Slipstream.” The Chief Engineer must have repaired the problem with the EPS conduits. They were returning to Federation space and relative safety.

Directly behind it the Doctor took over the comm line barking, “All senior medical staff to sick bay immediately.”

As Lorian took his leave and headed for the bridge where he would be needed, he found the sudden action--hopeful. It was a silly notion to have and an emotional one. Perhaps he should double his mediation routine. These repeated spurts of emotion were not acceptable.

It was nothing more than a random coincidence but somehow—emotion or not--there almost seemed to be something more profound to it.

 

***

 

“We must contact Starfleet immediately,” Commander Lorian said, turning in his station chair to face Commander Singer.

“And tell them what?” Dean asked almost incredulously. He was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened. They had just come out of Quantum Slipstream and were thirteen light years from the Barradas system, safely within Federation space again. But Dean still didn’t feel safe. He felt uncharacteristically unsettled. He didn’t want to be on the bridge, he wanted to be in sickbay with Erin.

“The truth,” Lorian said simply.

Dean glared at him. How could the Vulcan be so damned calm and impassive about all this? They had most certainly just started a war. Five thousand people were dead because of an Undine Infiltrator and the Captain’s survival was not yet guaranteed, no matter what the Vulcan said or how good a physician Cass was. Something could still go wrong. Dean couldn’t even begin to consider the further ramifications of their situation.

But Erin would have. She always did. She’d already have mapped out exactly what this disaster of a mission was going to cause and be forming a plan of action. Dean had no such thing. It was times like these that the full weight of Erin’s position became startlingly and alarmingly clear.

“Commander?” Lorian prodded again and Dean had the desire to choke him for his calm cool demeanor. As if nothing at all were wrong.

“I’ll do it after I check in with Cass,” Dean said and started to open a comm channel between the bridge and sickbay.

 “The Doctor is performing a delicate and intricate procedure. To disturb him to satisfy your own emotional need for comfort would be unwise. I am certain that the Doctor will notify you as soon as is convenient,” the Vulcan replied from his station. Dean’s temper flared dangerously but Commander Lorian didn’t seem to notice or care. “Looking over the Doctor’s shoulder and biting your nails will not help the Captain.”

Dean made himself take a deep breath. The rest of the bridge crew was looking at him expectantly. Commander Singer had never been forced to take command under these kinds of circumstances before. Erin would have known just the thing to say or what to do that would galvanize them or give them the assurance they needed. She wouldn’t be sitting here indecisively.

Dean was a tactician and a weapons specialist. He had no illusions that he could do the things Erin did. He could make a snap decision in a fight without a problem but things like this—things this massive--had never been his strong point. He understood it perfectly well; doing something about it was another matter entirely.

Finally, he nodded. “You’re right. No news is good news, right?” he said in an attempt to deflect the apprehension he felt, that he knew the rest of the crew felt. “I’ll make the report from the Ready Room.” He said rising to his feet from the Captain’s chair. “If Cass calls up from sickbay…”

“I will inform you immediately, Commander,” Lorian assured him.

“Very good,” Dean said and left the Vulcan the bridge.  As the Ready Room doors opened for him, he heard Commander Lorian serenely ask Sam to request status reports from all decks.

 

***

 

Inside the Ready Room, Dean took a seat at Erin’s desk. It felt wrong for him to be sitting here instead of her. He took a deep breath to still himself for what he was about to report and keyed over the holographic button in the console to open a secure communications channel to Starbase 39-Sierra.

It took only a moment for the call to go through and the console screen flickered as Admiral T’Nae’s visage resolved. She looked at him implacably from dark eyes, one brow arching slightly at the sight of him.

“Commander Singer,” she noted in a flat tone. “This is unexpected. I was expecting Captain Winchester.”

“Captain Winchester has been seriously injured. She’s in surgery now,” Dean said. Admiral T’Nae’s other eyebrow went up to join the first.

“That is most unfortunate. I do hope her prognosis is positive? It would be regrettable for the Federation to lose such a promising Captain.”

Dean gritted his teeth at the unconcerned way the Admiral phrased what he supposed was the closest a Vulcan could come to expressing worry. Was that all Erin was to the Admiral? To Starfleet? A promising captain they didn’t want to lose the use of?

“Tenuously,” Dean said. “Cass…Doctor Novak thinks she’ll pull through.”

“Then I assume you have contacted me in regard to your mission. Is this channel secure?” The Admiral said dismissing Erin’s predicament the instant she knew that she was probably not going to keel over. Just like Commander Lorain.

Dean repressed the desire to snap at a superior officer for their callousness. “Yes, sir. Things have not gone well. We’ve got a crisis on our hands.”  Dean said.

“Explain,” the Admiral demanded coolly.

Dean explained. All of it, in detail. From the orders given, to Erin’s reluctance to follow them, her attempt to stack the deck because she felt that something was amiss and failing, right up to Admiral Zelle being revealed as an Undine and what information they had found on Vendor Station’s computers before it was destroyed. He spared nothing. When he was done, the Admiral sat there for a long moment in thought.

“I cannot say I agree with the Captain’s decision to violate Code 47 and Article 14 protocol by revealing all this to you and the rest of the senior staff but I cannot deny the logic or cleverness of it.” She shook her head. “Admiral Zelle was an Undine infiltrator?” she said almost as if she was having trouble believing it. “This is a serious situation for Starfleet, Commander. We do not know how long Zelle has been compromised nor how she escaped detection.”

“I suspect it has something to do with the isomorphic injectors the Romulans were researching. Whatever they’ve done it’s made it so they can use transporters without trouble. Nothing was picked up by the scanners not even the bioelectric field they usually emit.”

The Admiral tilted her head a little in acknowledgement. “That is a definite possibility and I will relay that information to Starfleet.” The Admiral shook her head. “But why is this Undine helping the Romulans? What is the ultimate goal of the Undine? I must contact Starfleet Command at once.”

“Wait,” Dean said alarmed. “That’s it? I tell you we just started a war, committed a serious war crime resulting in the deaths of five thousand people and that’s it? What about Operation Khelian in the Rator system? What about stopping the war this disaster of a mission is going to cause? That Undine is not going to tell them it wasn’t our fault.”

“The information you discovered about Operation Khelian will be investigated and any action deemed appropriate by Starfleet taken. As for this war, war with the Romulans was inevitable, Commander. While the destruction of Vendor Station is tragic it will only be the excuse the Romulans desired for war not the trigger,” the Admiral said smoothly and detached.

Dean gaped at the screen. The Admiral couldn’t be serious. “Precisely! We’ve given the Romulans every reason to wage war. We started it…not them. We can’t…Starfleet doesn’t start wars and it can’t afford a third one on top of the Borg and the Klingons. Billions will die! And we’re not going to do anything about it?”

“I understand your discomfiture with the current situation but it is out of our hands, Commander. Now it rests in the hands of the higher echelon and the diplomats,” the Admiral said, obviously beginning to lose patience with him. Dean seemed to have that effect on Vulcans.

“You’re the one who handed us over to Admiral Zelle and sent us on this…” Dean felt a terrible chill sweep over him and realization set in. “You sent the Code 47. No record of this will exist. Plausible deniability. All the repair supplies and upgrades that you ‘didn’t’ authorize. You knew. You knew that this might start a war. You did this knowing what would happen. You fed this ship and this crew into a meat grinder along with the thousands of Romulans on that station on an implausible, unevidenced and unsupportable _hunch_? And if it comes back to bite you in the ass, you’ll just string us all up to prove how upstanding the Federation is against war criminals is that it? How could you, a Vulcan and an Admiral, condone this?”

“Commander Singer, you will modulate your tone with me,” the Admiral said icily. “The reasons for my actions in regard to the repair supplies and upgrades onboard that ship are not for you to question. May I point out that without them you would all be dead? The matter is closed. Notify me as to the Captain’s condition when surgery is complete. Make any further repairs you require and then standby for further orders. I have an assignment that may require your presence if the Captain is in stable condition. Consider yourself under orders to speak of this to no one without my direct approval.”

 The Admiral began to reach forward to end the communication on her end and then for a beat her expression became wry. “Additionally, if I know Captain Winchester she has doubtlessly recorded a log of this mission despite protocol not to. She has a habit of doing whatever she feels is pertinent with little regard for what she was told to do…as this mission once again proves. Please submit that log and a full report to me within twenty-four hours. And…tell Captain Winchester I hope her recovery is a brief one.”

“Are you going to court martial her?” Dean asked with dumbstruck concern. He could think of nothing else to say to the Admiral’s audacious statement.

“This never happened, Commander Singer. For what would I court martial her?” the Admiral said casually. The transmission abruptly ended and Dean was left starting at the blank screen in stunned silence.

****

 

After that, tension on the bridge was so tight you could have plucked it like a guitar string. No one knew what to think of their orders—or lack thereof and they were all anxiously waiting from news from sickbay about the Captain.

Lorian endeavored to keep them all busy by suggesting to Dean that it would ‘perhaps be prudent to ensure all systems were at peak efficiency in the event that the Devil’s Trap might be need to utilize those systems in the near future’. Dean took his advice and relentlessly drove the bridge crew to run one check after another.

It worked. Having something to do other than wait anxiously seemed to calm the crew’s nerves or at least give them something else to work on. So it was when Cass finally made the call it startled everyone out of their enforced diligence.

“Cass to the bridge.”

Dean quelled, Cass’s voice sounded uncertain and perturbed.

“Bridge here,” Dean answered him, afraid what his next words might be. All heads turned to the command pit expressions as anxious as his own.

“Erin’s out of surgery. She made it through just fine…”

Dean let out a sigh of relief that would have made his knees weak if he’d been standing up. There was a sudden and abrupt cheer from the crew and hands clapped enthusiastically. Sam was whistling shrilly. Lorian remained unmoved.

“You could show a little relief,” Dean snorted at the Vulcan who cocked his head. “She made it.”

“I have nothing to relieve. I never doubted the outcome, Commander,” Lorian said as Dean motioned for the crew to hold their exuberance in check. Cass was still trying to talk over the sudden roar at the happy news.

“Say that again, Cass. Bit loud up here,” Dean said with real cheer in his voice for the first time in a week.

“I _said_ ,” Cass repeated with obvious irritation, “She made it through just fine but she’s insisting on seeing you and Lorain right now. She won’t take no for an answer. She says it’s important.”

Dean’s renewed cheer took a sharp dive. He felt a jealous welter swell in his chest that she wanted to see Lorian that he had no right to feel but it was there nonetheless. The Science officer was already rising to his feet.

“We’ll be right there,” Dean said and got up to follow him. “Sam, you have the bridge.”

The Ops Manager nodded and moved to the Captain’s chair. “Yes, sir.”

Dean and Lorian disappeared into the turbo lift.

 

***

 

Upon arrival to sickbay Dean and Lorian were met with a scene that was quite familiar to Dean and would have been humorous if Cass hadn’t sounded so serious only minutes earlier. The Doctor and the Captain were arguing about medical procedure…again.

“Erin, stay down. You just had open-heart surgery after nearly dying and being eaten from the inside out by Undine cells. Not to mention the trauma from the attack that transferred those cells.”

“I’m not going to lay here like a dead fish,” Erin insisted, her voice roughed by disuse use and slightly slurred by drugs.

“Stop being stubborn and listen to your physician. Lay down. That’s an order,” Cass insisted. “You’re not going anywhere but that biobed for at least twenty four hours.”

“Fine,” Erin relented. She sounded terribly tired.

Cass had moved her from the containment bay to the ICU section and she lay in one of the medical teal dressing gowns beneath a thin thermal blanket that was emblazoned with the ship’s seal. She looked worse than she sounded. Her eyes had shadows so dark beneath them they looked like bruises, her complexion was pallid and her expression was a tortured one.

“Hey,” Dean said gently to Erin as they got within speaking distance. Cass looked over at him with relief.

“I told her what happened. I tried to reason with her but she’s being obstinate. Maybe you can talk sense into her. Five minutes, no more. Then I knock her out.”

“Dean,” Erin said craning her head up off the bed as far as she could and not elicit another reprimand from Cass. Dean beamed at her with undisguised joy and went to her. He took up her hand in his and squeezed it very carefully.

“It is satisfactory to see you are beginning to recover,” Lorian offered. Dean thought it was a terrible way to tell someone to get well.

Instead of the returned squeeze Dean expected, Erin pulled her hand from his and looked aggrieved. “Plot a course for the nearest starbase. Cass said we’re outside the Barradas system so that would be Romeo-II. I intend to surrender myself to the authorities immediately. Of course, I’ll be resigning my commission which makes you the Captain. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done. I won’t offer any defense for it.”

“What you’ve done…,” Dean said shaking his head. “Erin…”

“Have you tallied how many innocent people I just killed?” Erin said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Three Mogai Warbirds with a crew complement of 950 each. Three T’Varo warbirds with a crew complement of 150 each and a starbase housing 1900 innocent people. That’s five thousand innocent lives.  Not even the monster Governor Kodos of Tarsus IV killed that many. _Nero_ didn’t kill that many. I started a _war_!” She started to sit up and Cass out a hand on her uninjured shoulder to keep her from accomplishing her goal.

“Commander,” Lorian put in very calmly. “The Captain is not thinking at her best currently.”

“Erin this wasn’t your fault,” Dean said softly. “Admiral T’Nae has refused to court martial you. None of this ever officially happened. Remember? We’ve been ordered to stand by for orders pending your recovery.”

A fierce and desperate gleam appeared in her eye and she seemed to forget completely that she had just been ordering them to arrest her. “To go after the Undine?”

“No. Some other mission. This one has been turned over to Starfleet Command,” Dean assured her.

“What?” Erin said appalled. “We can’t. All those people. We have to find that Undine. They have to be warned. I killed… I killed…” She immediately began trying to get up again and Cass held her in place with one hand the other scrambling for a hypo spray.

“Ok, that’s it,” he said fed up with the whole thing. “No more. You are getting too upset. Everybody out.”

Dean backed away and almost ran into Lorian in his haste to get out of Cass’s way. It was disturbing to see Erin like this.

“No!” Erin protested frantically. “There are things you don’t understand… First Contact Day…last week…the Undine…this isn’t the first time!” Erin tried to explain and fumbled. “Damn it Cass what did you give me? I can’t think!”

“You don’t need to think. You need to rest,” Cass insisted and aimed the hypospray at Erin’s neck. She batted at him weakly.

“Touch me with that thing and I’ll break your arm,” she threatened. Cass looked put upon but not in the least worried about the threat.

“Captain, I believe the Doctor is correct. You should rest,” Lorian insisted trying to help calm her.  

“Listen to Cass, Erin. For once in your life,” Dean encouraged as well.

“Listen to _me,”_ Erin insisted fervently, her eyes flicking back and forth as she tried to figure a way to tell them whatever it was she felt so important.“How do you get past a pack of dangerous starved dogs?”

 “Captain, you are not making sense,” Lorian said. Erin ignored him.

“Answer the question!”

Lorian sighed but complied. “One would assume the best course of action would be to throw the dogs meat and slip by undetected while they fought over the food.”

“And turn on each other to get it,” Erin said with what was obviously a fervent desire for one of them to draw some enlightening conclusion from her riddle.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, completely perplexed.

“I believe the Captain is suggesting we are the ‘meat’,” Lorian said.

“No,” Erin said so mournfully and horrified it made Dean’s skin prickle. “This was a set up. The Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans… we’re the dogs.” 

Cass had stopped trying to poke Erin with the hypospray. Dean turned white as a sheet. Even Lorian looked stricken.

If they were the dogs…who was trying to slip past them? And then it hit him at the same time it hit the rest of them. No one had to say a word but Cass did and suddenly Commander Singer felt sick.

“’ _Cry ‘Havoc!’, and let slip the dogs of war.’”_

 

**_**Stay tuned for the next episode of Star Trek: Dark Horizons...Coming soon!**_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!

**Author's Note:**

> Please Read and Review!


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